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DUXBERRY DOINGS 


BY, 




CAROLINE BijCeROW 

\% 

AUTHOR OF “A FORTUNATE FAILURE,” ETC. 



MAR f 


€^ 0 ngregatiottal <%tmtJas ^cfjoDl anli 19itM{s{}{ng Nonets 


BOSTON 


.1-^ 


{> 5?1 


Copyright^ hy 

Congregational S. S. and Publishing Society, 

1884. 


STEREOTYPED 

BY C. J. PETERS AND SON, BOSTON, 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


CHAPTER I. 

NES HALIBURTON studied the 



effect of torchon lace on the rag carpet. 


^ The lace was very soft, white, and fine ; 
the carpet coarse, frayed, and of the dullest 
grays and browns, — a perfect symbol, she 
thought, of the lives of the persons who daily 
walked over it. 

It was home-made in the severest sense of the 
word. Aunt Melinda, of most respected mem- 
ory, had, according to family tradition, cut every 
inch of the rags with her own hands. The 
work was accomplished when the exemplary 
lady was nearly eighty and considerably crippled 
by paralysis, consequently the achievement was 
looked upon as nothing less than mir.aculous — 
perhaps it was ; and the carpet was regarded as 
a work of art — which it certainly was not. To 
Agnes it was simply hideous. 


3 


4 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


She was not of a speculative turn of mind, 
but as she adjusted with the point of her slipper 
the masses of white drapery upon the floor — 
the elaborate train of her wrapper — she fell 
into a reverie concerning Aunt Melinda whose 
daguerreotype, with a supernatural glitter in one 
eye where the sunlight struck it, looked down 
upon her from the opposite wall. 

Evidently her meditations were of the most 
unsatisfactory kind, for she arose suddenly with 
a little sigh, and, walking to the window, looked 
anxiously down the long dusty road. At that 
moment a door behind her opened with a bang, 
and a head was thrust into the room. 

‘‘ Miss Kenyon ’ll come soon ’s she can. Told 
me to tell you.” 

The boy stood, cap in hand, on one leg, the 
other stretched out behind him, as if awaiting 
orders and eager to execute them. His attitude 
suggested the flying Mercury, though it was the 
only thing about him which could possibly sug- 
gest anybody, for in face, figure, and general 
expression, he was a unique specimen of hu- 
manity. 

‘‘And who are you ” Miss Haliburton in- 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


5 


quired, smiling a little at the oddity of his ap- 
pearance. Please stand on both feet, will you, 
and try to look comfortable. Who are you } ” 
she repeated, as he appeared to have forgotten 
the question. 

‘^Bob.” 

He had a staccato style of speech and a re- 
markable contortion of the face which always 
accompanied his words, making both irresistibly 
droll. 

‘‘Yes, but whose boy — where do you be- 
long } 

“ Belong here,’’ and he elucidated his reply 
by a circular movement of the thumb of his left 
hand. 

“ Here in this house ? ” 

“Yes. Yes’m.” 

“ Do you go to Miss Kenyon’s school ? ” 

He gave his head an expressive jerk as if 
unwilling to commit himself to further vocal 
utterance. 

“ Do you mean that you live with Mr. May- 
nard, and — ” 

“ She ’s a-comin’ ! Jest seen her dress through 
them trees ! ” and pointing with newly acquired 


6 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


animation to the maples across the road, he 
disappeared. 

He was entirely forgotten by the time Sharley 
Kenyon entered the parlor. Agnes Haliburton 
greeted her with great cordiality — evidently to 
Miss Kenyon’s surprise as well as pleasure. 

‘‘ I had no idea you would be so glad to see 
me, Agnes,” she said. 

“ Then you did not know how much I liked 
you when we were at school together,” Agnes 
replied. “ When it was settled that I ’d got to 
come to Duxberry, it was a comfort to me to 
find that you were^ still here.” 

‘‘You might have taken that for granted,” 
Sharley said with a laugh. “ If I were alive I 
should certainly be living in Duxberry.” 

“ Why, is it possible that you like it so much } ” 
Agnes asked in astonishment. “ Uncle Nathan 
says the place has been running down for years. 
It does seem to me as stupid a town as I ever 
saw.” 

“ But you Ve not been here long, you know. 
How many years is it since your last visit } ” 

“ Just five. I was twelve years old. How do 
you like teaching, Sharley } ” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


7 


‘‘ Very much — almost as much as I expected, 
which is saying a great deal/' 

‘‘I've just seen one of your scholars," and 
Agnes smiled at a sudden recollection, “the boy 
you sent with a message." 

“ Oh, yes. Bob Gridley," and Sharley smiled 
in her turn. “ Is n't he queer } " 

“ He says he belongs here, though I 've not 
seen him before." 

“ Your uncle has had him over a year. He is 
a good deal of help on the farm, but a thorn in 
the flesh to Miss Angeline." 

“ Oh, that woman ! Miss Angeline ! Aunt 
Angeline, I suppose I must call her, though she 
is only uncle Nathan's half sister." 

“You must come and see my school before 
long, Agnes. You're to be here all summer, I 
suppose." 

“ Oh, mercy ! I hope not ! " 

She laughed at the surprised expression on 
her companion's face. 

“I'm not as fond of Duxberry as you are," 
she explained. “ I should not have come at all, 
only father had to go abroad on business and 
said he should feel better about leaving me if I 


8 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


would stay at uncle Nathan’s. He will be 
back in a few weeks ; then I shall go to Sara- 
toga.” 

Agnes Haliburton looked uneasy and discon- 
tented, — as she felt. 

If I could have gone with him I should have 
been perfectly happy,” she went on, ^^but he 
could n’t stay this time long enough to make it 
worth while. I ’m sure the change would have 
done me good. I ’ve felt miserable for months. 
I ’m tired out all the time.” She glanced at her 
wrapper as she spoke. ‘‘ I have n’t had enough 
ambition to-day even to change my dress. But 
you won’t mind it, Sharley ” 

Sharley did not mind it in the least. She 
never did mind such things in Agnes’s sense of 
the word. She was thinking just then what a 
very elegant affair the wrapper was, — she had 
supposed it was full dress for the afternoon. 
Sharley Kenyon was only half a year older than 
Agnes Haliburton. She admired beautiful 
clothes as much as the wearer of them, and it 
was not natural for her to forget that Agnes 
was proverbially the finest dressed girl in 
Creighton Academy. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


9 


“ Perhaps even this change will do you good/* 
she said, with a sympathetic expression, ‘‘and 
your cousin Winifred would reconcile anybody 
to living on a desert island, if she were there 
too/* 

Agnes still looked disturbed ; then said slowly 
and with a little laugh, — 

“But she is so different from me in every 
way/* 

“ She was delighted at the idea of your com- 
ing. It has been very hard for her since her 
mother died, and Miss Angeline — ** 

“Tell me more about yourself, Sharley,** 
Agnes interrupted at the mention of Miss An- 
geline’s name, and apparently without the least 
compunction. 

“A most uninteresting subject, Agnes. If 
variety is the spice of life, mine has n’t a bit.’* 

“ But you are looking so well, and so happy, 
too ! ** 

“ I am glad of that. One can keep well and 
decently happy even, with very little variety, 
you see. There’s not a happier girl in Dux- 
berry than your cousin Winnie.” 

Agnes shook her head dubiously. 


10 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


can't understand it — I never shall." 

‘‘ What would you do in her place ? " 

I 'm sure I can't imagine. It worries me 
even to think of it." 

You have not written to her very often ? " 

‘‘No." 

Agnes felt profoundly sorry that she was 
compelled to admit the fact, or rather that the 
fact existed. If she had realized just how her 
cousin was situated — 

“I only wish I had," she said aloud to Sharley. 
“ And I could have sent her books and papers 
and magazines just as well as not, if I had 
thought of it, — and been glad to get rid of 
them, too ; they accumulate so when one lives 
in hotels and boarding-houses." 

“But the letters would have been more ac- 
ceptable, Agnes. We have a Magazine Club in 
Duxberry. Winnie got it up." 

“Winnie! I had an idea she couldn't do 
anything." 

“ A very mistaken one, as you will find. Per- 
haps you think she can't enjoy anything, 
either." 

“ I 'm sure I could n't if I were in her place. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


II 


We will go and see her now/’ and Agnes led 
the way to her cousin’s room. 

Winifred Maynard lay on a lounge drawn as 
far as possible from the window. Her delicate 
face spoke as plainly of the pain which kept her 
captive as of the patience with which she bore 
it. But there was a scarlet spot on each cheek, 
— sure sign that she was just then suffering 
from one of her hard headaches. 

‘‘You mustn’t be discouraged about me to- 
day, Sharley,” she said brightly, as soon as the 
girls entered. “ I lost my head entirely yester- 
day, when Agnes came. I ’m lucky to get it 
back again even in this condition.” 

“ Oh, I ’m not at all discouraged,” Sharley 
responded. “ I thought, if you were, I could 
cheer you up by what Dr. Davidge told me 
about you yesterday.” 

“ And that was — } ” 

“ He is surer than ever that you will be well 
again, — as well as you ever were, — if you are 
only — ” 

“Only patient,” and Winnie concluded the 
sentence for her. “ I ’m familiar with the 
formula.” 


12 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


“ You don’t look as if you were ever anything 
else,” Agnes remarked. 

^‘You’ve not seen much of me yet, and 
you Ve come to make me a visit, and it ’s pleas- 
ant weather, and I Ve been sleeping better 
lately, and — and — ” She paused in the enu- 
meration of her blessings. The list was not a 
very long one at any time. ‘‘But you must 
wait till you talk of going away, and it rains, 
and I lie awake a few nights, and aunt Angeline 
is more nervous than usual, and the children 
more noisy, and then see me in one of my tan- 
trums.” 

The idea of Winnie’s ever being seen in a 
“ tantrum ” struck Agnes as the funniest thing 
possible. 

“ That would be worth seeing,” she said with 
a laugh. “ Mine would be chronic, if I were in 
your condition.” 

“ Why, I am not so badly off as you imagine, 
though I ’m not at my best to-day. I can go 
to ride with you, a little ways, sometimes, and I 
often walk about the room and out into the 
kitchen. It might be so much worse, — it has 
been so much worse, — you see !” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


13 


Something in the face more than in the words 
struck Agnes with a sudden pang. She looked 
away from her cousin, and picked up a book 
lying on a little table. But her tears blinded 
her. She could not see a word. 

‘‘ I *m afraid Tom Lawton needs looking after 
again, Winnie,’' Sharley said. ‘‘ Will you be 
able to see him to-morrow .? ” 

‘T must, if that is the case,” Winnie answered 
quickly. How is the baby?” 

‘‘Better, I’m glad to say. I was in there a 
minute this morning on my way to school. 
Nannie is very proud of the new apron you sent 
her. She keeps her hands in the pockets all 
the time, but she explores in vain for any more 
pennies. I’m going now, Winnie. You’ve 
talked too long already.” 

She kissed her on the forehead and went with 
Agnes out of the room. 

“Does Dr. — I’ve forgotten the name you 
mentioned — really think that Winnie will get 
well, or does he say so just to — to — ” 

“To encourage her, do you mean? No; 
he really thinks so, and she is a great deal 
better than she was three months ago. If 


H 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


you could have seen her when she was first 
hurt — 

I ’m very glad I did n't,” Agnes inter- 
rupted. Uncle Nathan wrote father about it, 
of course, but he did not give us all the par- 
ticulars. I 'd like to know just how it hap- 
pened, but of course I should never ask 
Winnie.” 

Though it would not distress her to tell 
you. We were riding horseback, — it was quite 
the fashion here once, — and there was a shower 
coming. We were riding quite fast, and just as 
we reached the barn — ” she pointed down the 
road — ^‘a man staggered out of the doorway 
and fell right under the horse's feet, — Winnie's 
horse. He sprang and threw her off. She 
was so near home she held her reins loosely, 
and had taken her foot out of the stirrup, so as 
to jump off the next minute. She struck on 
her head. It was a long time before she was 
conscious, and days, you know, before there 
was any hope that she would live.” 

‘‘And the man, — who was he.^” 

“You heard me just now speaking of Tom 
Lawton. That is the man.” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


IS 


‘‘Didn’t they do anything with him, — arrest 
him or something?” Agnes asked eagerly. 

“ What was there to do ? He was the poor- 
est and most dissipated fellow in Duxberry. 
He had been drinking while he was in the barn 
waiting for the shower to pass over. He knew 
what he had done. It sobered him more effec- 
tually, and kept him sober a longer time, than 
anything else had ever done.” 

“ I should think it might ! ” Agnes exclaimed 
indignantly. 

“ Since then Winnie has taken charge, in a 
way, of him and his family. But I must go 
now,” she added, rising. “ There ’s supper to 
get and the children to look after, and various 
little diversions of that kind waiting for me at 
home.” 

“You don’t do all that besides your teaching, 
Sharley ? ” 

“Yes. Why not? Mother has not been 
well for a long time, and she gets very tired 
with our large family. After school I take her 
place, — as far as I can.” 

“ Does n’t it tire you, too ? ” 

“Not at all. It quite rests me sometimes, — 


i6 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


when I Ve been listening to the multiplication 
table all day, for instance.” 

With the quick motion habitual to her, she 
bade Agnes good-by, and walked away down 
the road. 

‘^Sharley Kenyon is just a glorious girl, as 
she always was,” Agnes thought to herself as 
she watched her friend until she out was of 
sight. 


CHAPTER II. 


i^SlSS ANGELINE BASCOM never 
knew, according to her own state- 
ment, ‘‘whether she was on foot or 
horseback ; ” and if her word concerning another 
matter were to be believed, no one ever lived 
on earth who was more reluctant to be of ser- 
vice to anybody. 

Miss Bascom was not averse to having it 
known that she had retained her maiden name 
from deliberate choice. “ I never felt any 
special call to take care of a great live man,” 
she said, “or bring up a pack of noisy young 
ones.” 

The consequence of this decision was that 
Angeline Bascom, being more free from respon- 
sibilities than most of the women in Duxberry, 
was called upon oftener than anyone else to 
share those of her neighbors. 

Nominally she was housekeeper for Deacon 
Hotchkiss, a widower and brother-in-law, whose 


17 


1 8 DUXBERRY DOINGS. 

farm joined that of Elnathan Maynard. A 
good deal of her time was spent with the 
family of her sister, Mrs. Ezra Barker, who 
found it hard work to take care of her six 
children. It was Angeline who, in her own 
phraseology, did all the cutting and contriving 
to make a nightcap out of a sheet,’’ and keep 
the family presentable. 

The death of Mrs. Maynard was a blow to 
the entire town of Duxberry. She was uni- 
versally known and beloved. Winifred filled her 
mother’s place in a remarkable manner until 
the accident a few months later, which threat- 
ened to cripple her for life. 

It was in such emergencies that Miss Bas- 
com’s talents shone resplendent. In reality 
there was no other woman in Duxberry who 
could be called upon to help the family in its 
great strait. Miss Bascom did not wait to be 
called. Her sun-bonnet was on the nail behind 
the kitchen door, her sleeves rolled up, and 
her hands in a batch of dough, before anybody 
knew that she was within a mile of the May- 
nard farmhouse. “ Though you must have 
some other shoulder at the wheel straight off,” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


19 


she said to her brother, who was regarding her 
with some gratitude. ‘‘The deacon 's down again 
with rheumatism. Ned Barker ^s breaking out 
with the measles, and I don’t feel strong enough 
myself to lift an ox-team.” 

Elnathan Maynard took her at her word. A 
housekeeper was procured from the city, but 
returned to it in less than three days, dismissed 
by Miss Angeline as “ not knowing enough to 
go in out of a hard shower of rain.” Another 
one “ had no more spring in her than a lumber- 
wagon,”* while a third — procured after weeks 
of tiresome search — used more cream in her 
cooking than accorded with Miss Bascom’s 
notion of economy. If her testimony could 
be believed, the objectionable housekeeper 
“just waded in it,” and her return to dry land 
was vehemently suggested. It really seemed 
from an impartial survey of the situation, as if 
Miss Bascom were fated to care for more than 
one “ great live man,” and to bring up more 
than one “pack of noisy young ones.” 

She was the only one who included little 
Charlie and Mary Maynard under that head ; 
but concerning Bob Gridley, the “ thorn in her 


20 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


flesh/' as Sharley Kenyon described him, there 
might be an honest difference of opinion. 

Bob was born nobody knew where, and first 
found in process of taking a surreptitious nap 
in a hay-mow which the selectmen of the town 
had seized for debt. With face, hair, and 
clothes bearing a strong resemblance to the 
property, he was considered a part of it, and 
when the hay was sold at auction, the hay- 
seed, as he was facetiously termed, was planted 
in the poorhouse. Lean and lank as to form, 
watery as to eyes, freckled as to complexion, 
loose as to joints. Bob surely never could be 
loved for his looks alone. He seemed to pos- 
sess some dim and humorous understanding of 
this fact, expressed in a good-natured grin upon 
a constantly wide-open mouth. The teeth thus 
displayed bore unmistakable resemblance to 
rain-discolored tombstones, loosened by frost 
and insecure as to position. His habit of sniff- 
ing seemed to be a spasmodic effort to prevent 
unbecoming laughter at himself and his sur- 
roundings. Personal observation, however, of 
this incessant physical contortion revealed the 
fact that it was a necessity forced upon him as 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


21 


the result of catarrh produced by a cold con- 
tracted in the hay-mow from a draught through 
the barn door. 

Bob and Miss Bascom were not friends in 
any sense of the word. Truth forces the ad- 
mission that they were deadly enemies, between 
whom raged an irrepressible conflict. Bob 
(whether by accident or design could never be 
learned from his imperturbable countenance) 
always pronounced her name Langenine Back- 
son.” She retorted by shortening his already 
unpoetic cognomen to Griddle,” an insinuation 
as to his fondness for certain cakes baked on 
that particular kitchen utensil. In his undisci- 
plined eagerness to partake of that article of 
food, he had been known to devour the very 
batter from under the nose of Miss Bascom 
when the big yellow bowl containing it had 
been left near the kitchen window. 

Bob had hurried home from school eager to 
deliver Miss Kenyon’s message. Miss Bascom 
sat sewing by the kitchen window. Bob, in his 
usual headlong style, rushed by her, tripping 
over a stool, clutching in some mysterious way 
at her tape-measure, and thereby throwing the 


22 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


work-basket and all its contents upon the floor 
behind him. Without considering it necessary 
to explain, apologize, or assist in repairing the 
damage, he proceeded to the parlor with the 
message for Miss Haliburton, placidly ignoring 
the storm of wrath and invective raging in the 
rear. 

But the young lady was a revelation to Bob 
Gridley. He had never seen anyone so beau- 
tiful, he thought, certainly no one so finely 
dressed. She smiled, too, like an angel, though 
laughing at him, and he left the parlor, — jump- 
ing out of a kitchen window to avoid attracting 
the attention of Miss Bascom, busy among her 
spools on the floor, — feeling as if Duxberry 
would be a very different place as long as such 
a mortal stayed in it, Miss Harry Burton,'’ 
as, according to his propensity for mis-calling 
names, he thereafter designated her. 

Miss Bascom, rising to her feet again, short 
of breath and red in the face, caught sight 
of his retreating form around the corner of the 
house. At that moment Mr. Maynard entered 
the kitchen, to her great mental relief. 

‘‘ This house, big as ’t is, is n’t big enough for 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


23 


Bob Gridley and me, Nathan Maynard,'* she 
began at once. 

‘‘ What 's Bob done now, Angeline } " Mr. 
Maynard inquired, with a merry twinkle in his 
gray eyes. The twinkle was nothing new, how- 
ever. It was characteristic of the eyes, and of 
the sweet, kindly nature of their owner. 

“Done now ! " she repeated scornfully. 
“ He 's doing all the time. His capers are 
like links in a chain, and for my part I wish 
it was round his neck ! " 

With this slightly vague, but very emphatic, 
conclusion to her sentence. Miss Bascom re- 
sumed her seat, and proceeded to rearrange the 
demoralized work-basket. 

“ What did you ever take that young one for, 
I 'd like to know ^ " she demanded, as if she had 
not asked Mr. Maynard that identical question 
several hundred times during her sojourn in the 
house. “ There 's enough original sin in him to 
supply all Duxberry for a whole generation." 

“Are those overalls of mine mended yet, 
Angeline.^" Mr. Maynard asked good-naturedly. 
“ Bob and I have an appointment in the barn, 
and I 'll reason with him." 


24 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


‘‘Much good that'll do!" ejaculated Miss 
Bascom. “He's got to go, and that's the 
long and the short of it — that is, if I stay," she 
added. “ Ezra says Ellen needs a lift with her 
sewing, and the baby's cutting her teeth. Be- 
sides, the deacon 's down again, and he wants 
me, too. What are you going to do with that 
Haliburton girl that 's just come 

“ What am I going to do with her } " Mr. May- 
nard repeated, watching the finishing stitches 
given to the overalls. 

“ There 's no throne in this house for a Queen 
of Sheba and her long gowns. I don’t propose 
to be a lady’s maid at my time of life, either. 
I s'pose America is n't big enough for John 
Haliburton to do business in. If he 'd put his 
hand in his pocket before he packed his trunk, 
there 's one family I know of that would n’t have 
its nose on the grindstone all the time." 

Miss Bascom cut the last thread of her work 
with a vigorous snap of her scissors, and gave 
an equally vigorous shake to the completed 
garment. 

“Next week I’ll have an interview with 
those gray pants, Nathan, and take a reef in 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


25 


the black ones. You won’t want either of them 
right off.” 

Apparently she had forgotten her intention of 
leaving the house, and Mr. Maynard went out 
to the barn without hearing any further refer- 
ence to the obnoxious Bob. 

The Queen of Sheba, otherwise Miss Agnes 
Haliburton, trailed her ‘‘long gown” out into 
the kitchen and seated herself in Mr. May- 
nard’s big rocking-chair by the window. She 
was restless and at a loss what to do with her- 
self. Miss Bascom’s society, though not spe- 
cially desirable, was at any rate somewhat better 
than her own, and perhaps the lady would im- 
prove on acquaintance. Agnes determined to 
try the experiment. 

“ This window has . a very fine view, aunt 
Angeline,” she remarked, looking from it with 
apparent approbation. She hesitated over that 
particular form of address, but concluded that, 
on the whole, it would be advisable to use it. 
“ Don’t you think so 1 ” she added. 

“ I never thought anything about it,” Miss 
Bascom replied. “ My views generally lie in 
another direction, — inside instead of out” 


26 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


“ And you have been here ever since Winnie 
was hurt, have n’t you ? ” Agnes went on. 

^‘Yes, but I can’t stay much longer. I’ve 
got too many other families to look after. There 
won’t be a pot or a pan in its place at the 

deacon’s, and Ellen’s children will all be walk- 

♦ 

ing rag-bags before long.” 

‘‘But how can you leave uncle Nathan and 
Winnie } ” Agnes asked, in surprise, never 
doubting that Miss Bascom intended immedi- 
ate departure. 

“ Why, are n’t you here } ” 

“I !” 

Agnes’s face did not half express the aston- 
ishment she felt, though it showed consider- 
able. 

“ Can’t you cook } ” 

“ I ! ” Agnes repeated. 

“Yes, you. You’re as old as Winifred, 
and she ’s a housekeeper who ’d take the gold 
medal anywhere.” 

How surprised Winifred Maynard would 
have been to hear such words from her aunt 
Angeline ! 

“ Winnie has had a mother and a home,” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


27 


Agnes responded quickly. She ’s had a very 
different sort of life from mine.’' 

‘‘ More ’s the pity — for you. . Mary Maynard 
was one of the women you read about, the only 
one I ever knew who was fit to train young 
ones anyway, so she must needs up and die 
and leave them. Your mother would have 
been just like her if she ’d lived. They were 
as much alike as two pins on the same paper.” 

‘‘ Oh, aunt Angeline, and you knew my 
mother } ” 

“ I could n’t very well help it. We sat on 
the same bench when we went to the old red 
school-house down at the corner. We were 
always at the same huskings, and quiltings, and 
meetings, and thought acres of each other till 
she was fool enough to marry your father.” 

‘‘What.?” 

Agnes Haliburton doubted the evidence of 
her own ears. To her, the conclusion of the 
remark bore a purely personal application. 

Miss Bascom looked at her keenly, pondered 
an instant, and appeared to change her mind 
about something. 

“ Any woman ’s a fool to marry any man,” 
she said. 


28 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


and Agnes laughed slightly. ‘^The 
world is pretty well filled with fools, then, 
aunt Angeline.’' 

Crowded ; and she nodded her head em- 
phatically; ‘'they haven’t got elbow-room.” 

“ Do you know my father, too 1 ” Agnes in- 
quired. 

“Yes, I know him.” 

She did not seem disposed to continue the 
subject, and Agnes, from some intuition that it 
was not an agreeable one, forbore to question 
her. 

“ I s’pose you ’ve been living in spots and 
streaks all your days,” Miss Bascom remarked 
after a minute’s pause. 

Agnes looked as if she did not comprehend 
her. 

“ I mean round in boarding-houses and what 
not, where folks pay big prices to be as uncom- 
fortable as possible.” 

“Yes, father has always boarded; you know 
he is away travelling a good deal of the time, 
and I ’ve been at school so many years it never 
seemed worth while to keep house.” 

“ You ought to know something by this time. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


29 


even if you don't know how to cook or take 
care of a family. What are you going to do 
with yourself now you ’re out of school } ” 
Agnes looked at her curiously. Somehow 
the plainest facts and most simple questions 
had an annoying and perplexing quality when 
Miss Bascom stated them. 

I have n’t thought very much about it,” she 
answered reluctantly, conscious that the ac- 
knowledgment would in itself be considered a 
sort of disgrace. 

‘‘ I should think it was high time you did, 
then. What do you think about, I wonder. 
Do you make your own clothes } ” 

‘‘No, I never have.” 

“ I s’pose you think a good deal about how 
you ’ll have ’em trimmed, don’t you } ” 

“Why, I have to do that. The dressmaker 
never wants to decide for me. Sometimes she 
does, though, when I have a party dress made.” 
“ You go to parties, then ” 

“ Of course I do. Everybody does in the city.” 
“ And you seem to think you ’ll have nothing 
to do but keep on going to parties all your life.” 
Agnes rose quietly, deciding to return to the 


30 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


parlor. She was not enjoying the conversa- 
tion, and its quality did not seem to improve 
in proportion to its length. Miss Bascom did 
not notice the movement, or, at any rate, did 
not appear to. 

‘‘ I s’pose you can do plain sewing on a 
pinch ; hem a crash towel, for instance. I Ve 
got to make biscuits for tea, and I dl hand this 
one oyer for you to finish. I hate to leave a 
needle sticking into anything.” 

But she had left a metaphorical needle stick- 
ing into Agnes’s consciousness, whether she 
knew it or not. The young girl did her best 
with the crash towel — in reality putting in 
much finer stitches and twice as many of 
them as there was occasion for — while she 
thought over a few of Miss Bascom’s ques- 
tions. Something was all wrong, she felt 
sure ; yet certainly the questions were sen- 
sible, practical, straightforward. She felt igno- 
rant, useless and helpless, — a very new and 
exceedingly disagreeable sensation, — and she 
was not disposed to cherish any friendly feel- 
ing towards the woman who had brought about 
so undesirable a result. 


CHAPTER III. 



INIFRED MAYNARD’S power lay 
chiefly in some mysterious, magnetic 
element which she possessed in no small 
degree. Physical science has accomplished 
wonders in its demonstration of the unseen yet 
mighty impulses of the physical universe, and 
it is reasonable to hope that as the thoughts 
of men are widened with the process of the 
suns,” social science may do as much for the 
social world. 

At present we simply feel these subtle dif- 
ferences in people, without being able to define 
or analyze them. One person repels us, though 
in outward appearance he may be everything 
that is desirable, and give no intimation of the 
inner man by word or look. Another attracts 
us powerfully, and with as little reason. It can- 
not be the result of prejudice, for often there is 
no possibility of prejudice existing. We are 
forced to accept the fact, and relinquish the 

31 


32 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


attempt to understand it — at least until such 
time as a wiser philosopher than any we have 
yet known shall make the matter clear to us. 

But as this personal power of attraction and 
repulsion corresponds perfectly to the magnetic 
conditions of the material world, we find it con- 
venient to employ the same term and cal] it 
personal magnetism. It was this power which 
was always felt in Winifred Maynard’s presence. 

Agnes Haliburton, entering her cousin’s room 
quite suddenly the next day, stopped surprised 
at the appearance of a stranger sitting by a 
little table. There was coffee upon it, and a 
silver cake-basket, plentifully filled. The man — 
he could hardly be called a gentleman — was 
eating and drinking with great avidity. He 
looked up with some embarrassment as Agnes 
entered. 

“Agnes,” Winnie said instantly, “let me 
make you acquainted with my friend, Mr. Law- 
ton. My cousin, Miss Haliburton, from New 
York.” 

Agnes bowed, — a little stiffly perhaps, — but 
as the man rose and extended his hand she felt 
compelled to take it. It was a hard, rough one. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


33 


and she surreptitiously wiped her own on her 
handkerchief at the first convenient opportunity. 

So little Tom is delighted with Man Friday, 
is he } Winnie asked her guest, evidently re- 
suming the conversation at the point where it 
had been interrupted, that he might feel at his 
ease again. 

‘‘He's sorry we're so near the end of the 
book," the man replied. “ Last night he didn’t 
want me to read any, so it would last the 
longer." 

“ Oh, you tell him there are plenty more 
books for him as long as he 's such a good boy 
at school. Miss Kenyon says he 's doing won- 
ders with his arithmetic. She takes great pride 
in him." 

“He's a smart little chap for figures. Miss 
Winnie. And the baby's growing finely. I 
must bring him in some day again, and give 
you a look at him." 

“ I wish you would, Tom, and let him stay 
longer than he did before. I 'm a good deal 
stronger now than I was a month ago." 

Tom Lawton took his departure a few min- 
utes later, Agnes watching him closely as he 


34 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


left the room, and looking curiously, almost 
indignantly, at her cousin as the door closed 
behind him. 

And that 's the man,’' she exclaimed, with 
sudden fierceness, ‘‘ who is wholly to blame for 
your condition — who might have been the 
cause of your losing your life } ” 

Yes.” 

Winnie smiled as she answered. She under- 
stood perfectly the direction of Agnes’ thoughts. 

shouldn’t suppose you would consider 
such a man as that fit to speak to, any way,” 
she went on ; “ and after all that ’s happened ” — 
She stopped abruptly, as if it were im- 
possible to express herself with adequate em- 
phasis. 

It is because of all that ’s happened, Agnes, 
that I am anxious to speak to him. If it never 
had happened, I should never have known how 
much he needed it.” 

‘‘Then it is certainly a great pity, Winifred 
Maynard, that you did not forever remain in 
ignorance. He ’s a coarse, low fellow ; a drunk- 
ard, too, is n’t he } ” 

“ He was.” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


35 


‘‘ Perhaps you think you Ve reformed him. I 
must say I have n’t much faith in that sort of 
work.” 

Have you ever tried it, Agnes ” Winnie 
asked, with the same twinkle in her eye that 
there was often in her father’s. ‘‘ One should 
judge that sort of work experimentally.” 

‘‘ Now you ’re laughing at me ! No, of course 
I have n’t, and I should never have the least 
desire to. Do you enjoy his society, Winnie, as 
much as you appear to ” 

Why, I ’m glad if I appear to,” Winnie re- 
plied with animation. “ I must say that if I 
could have had my ‘ ’drathers,’ as Aunt Ange- 
line says, I should have preferred a nap this 
afternoon to entertaining Tom Lawton ; but of 
course I wouldn’t have him suspect such a 
thing.” 

Oh, of course not,” Agnes remarked dryly. 

“ And he did n’t want to come either ; you 
may be sure of that,” Winnie continued. But 
I sent him word yesterday that I must see him 
to-day. He has never failed me yet.” 

‘‘ And to entertain him in this way, too ! ” 
and Agnes pointed to the little table. 


36 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


A very innocent ruse of mine,” and Winnie 
laughed again. You heard what he said about 
his children ? ” 

‘‘ Yes.” 

His wife is a lovely woman — all broken- 
down and old before her time with hard work, 
and — I'm afraid — more abuse from Tom than 
any one will ever know about. It would be a 
favor to me if you would go and call upon her 
some day.” 

If I would go there — to call on that 
Tom Lawton's wife ! ” Agnes repeated. If her 
cousin had proposed a trip to Madagascar she 
could not have seemed more surprised. 

Winifred simply smiled, — the twinkle in her 
eye again. 

“When will Uncle John get back from Eu- 
rope she asked, apparently quite willing to 
change the subject. 

“He can't come in less than three weeks. 
Probably it will be four,” Agnes answered. 
There was some dejection in her tone. 

“And then.?” — 

“ Then I am to go with him to Saratoga,” 
she said, with a little more animation. “ You 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


17 


know I Ve been there two summers. It's just 
perfectly delightful." 

‘‘You couldn’t be happy, then, to spend the 
whole summer with us in Duxberry } " her cousin 
inquired. She did not wait for an answer. 
In reality none was needed. “ But we should 
be so glad to have you if you could be con- 
tented." 

“ I would be glad enough to stay with you," 
Agnes said heartily, “and Sharley Kenyon is 
splendid. But Aunt Angeline and — and — if 
I could have you and Sharley with me at 
Saratoga I should n’t have anything left to 
ask for." 

“ Aunt Angeline is n’t half so disagreeable as 
she tries to make you think," Winnie said ea- 
gerly. “You ’ll get used to her in a little while. 
Even Charlie and Mary understand her." 

“ But they are such good little things ! ’’ 

“Yet they are very human children after all," 
Winnie said, with a shake of her head. “ To 
think of all I want to do for them, and of how 
little use I can be ! ’’ 

“ Do you ever try any experiments with that 
astonishing Bob } ’’ Agnes asked with a laugh. 


38 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


I should think he was a field for innumerable 
missionaries/’ 

‘‘ I always include him with the children,” 
Winnie answered. I think, Agnes,” she con- 
tinued, as if struck with a sudden and valuable 
idea, ‘‘ that you ’d better see what you can ac- 
complish with Bob. Father thinks there ’s 
great good in him, so there must be.” 

Excuse me ! ” 

Agnes made a comical grimace. 

‘‘ It would be entertaining, Agnes, I ’m sure 
of it. And really I ’m puzzled to know what 
Duxberry can afford you in the way of enter- 
tainment even for the short time you stay.” 

‘^If it comes to cultivating that Bob Grid- 
ley,” Agnes said quickly, shall be reduced 
to a pitiful plight. I have n’t the least taste for 
misssionary work of any kind,” she went on 
more slowly and with greater earnestness in 
her tone. I don’t like disagreeable persons 
or places. Some one must be mixed up with 
them, I suppose, but it ought to be some one 
who has talent for that special line. I know I 
should never like it in the world.” 

Never like it,” Wihnie repeated in a low 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


39 


tone. ‘‘ It never seemed to me to be a question 
of liking. I always imagined it was something 
very different.*' 

‘‘ What, then .? " 

‘‘A question of duty," Winnie said gravely. 

There was a little pause between them, broken 
by Agnes. “I certainly thought you liked it," 
she said. 

Winnie shook her head. ‘‘Liked disagree- 
able persons and places," she quoted. “ Why 
should I.?" 

“Oh, not that. You know what I mean, the 
satisfaction of doing good, — and — and " — 

“Yes, of course, there's satisfaction in that, 
when it's done — but the doing itself is not 
always pleasant work. It 's a good thing to be 
able to cure disease, but disease itself is disa- 
greeable. And the doctors must be terribly 
discouraged and out of patience sometimes. 
There's one now — Dr. Davidge — my doctor, 
you know, Agnes. You must stay and see 
him." 

But Agnes rose hastily, ready to leave the 
room. 

“ Not this time, Winnie. I 'd rather meet 


40 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


him when I feel more amiable. I retire to 
muse upon Tom Lawton, Bob Gridley, mis- 
sionary work in general, yours in particular, 
and — 

She stopped abruptly, darting through the 
door. The Doctor had fastened his horse and 
entered the house with more alacrity than she 
had calculated upon. 

But Agnes gave very little thought, after all, 
to the topics she had enumerated. Instead, she 
wrote a long letter which occupied her till 
supper time, the last sentence of which was : 
^‘Though the country here is very pretty and 
my cousin is as lovely as she can possibly be, 
I Ve already begun to check off the days on the 
little calendar you gave me. Once I should 
have shrunk from defacing it with a pencil 
mark, but present circumstances would justify 
any amount of that kind of desecration. A 
year ago to-day we were in Ballston, at the Van 
Wyck's lawn party. Do you remember it, and 
the moonlight croquet 'i '' 

The letter was addressed to Mr. Arthur A. 
Cosgrove, Windsor Hotel, New York. 


V 


CHAPTER IV. 



fOINGS” was the generic name given to 
every event which took place in the old 
town of Duxberry. Originally the word 
was limited in its application to the various 
kinds of merry-making which found favor with 
the inhabitants, but Duxberry had fallen upon 
evil — or, at least, monotonous — days, and for a 
long time there had been very little going on in 
the way of amusements. Still, from habit per- 
haps, and from the fact that there was always 
something transpiring in town, the word was 
retained and made expressive of every social 
event, whether merry, mysterious, or melan- 
choly. 

Duxberry had once boasted a pill-box factory, 
a broom factory, and a cheese factory. But 
owing, probably, to the efficacy of the pills en- 
closed in the boxes, the demand for them grad- 
ually decreased until their manufacture was 
given up. The new brooms swept so clean that 


42 


DUX BERRY DOINGS, 


fewer of them were needed, and the cheese fac- 
tory came to grief through a quarrel among its 
numerous owners. The change which grad- 
ually crept over the business condition of the 
village seriously affected its social interests. 

The young people were, of course, the great- 
est sufferers, as they were the ones most ad- 
dicted to the dissipations possible to the com- 
munity. These were of the mildest description. 
Singing-clubs had flourished every winter within 
the memory of the oldest inhabitant,” and the 
vocal labor performed in them was done with 
spirit, if not always with understanding. Spell- 
ing matches hadrisen to a height of popula- 
rity which for a time produced orthographical 
mania in the minds of half the youth in town. 
There had even been a Shakespeare Society, 
and it was the intention of the members to 
make close acquaintance with Hamlet and 
Othello, Ophelia and Desdemona. Consider- 
able progress was made in that direction, but a 
portion of each evening was, by tacit consent, 
devoted to the delights of corn-popping and 
candy-pulling, the Irish Washerwoman and 
Virginia Reel. If Hamlet and Ophelia were 


DUX BERRY DOINGS, 


43 


occasionally neglected and even forgotten, the 
young people at least became better acquainted 
with each other, and on a broad intellectual basis. 

Sharley Kenyon had by no means forgotten 
those days. She had even left them reluctantly 
to attend Creighton Academy. Mr. Kenyon 
had an exalted idea of education. Mrs. Kenyon 
had as much strength of mind as her husband, 
but very little physical endurance. Sharley 
had for a long time borne that portion of the 
domestic burden which falls so naturally, though 
often heavily, upon the shoulders of the oldest 
daughter in a large and struggling family, and 
was greatly missed from home. Her return 
became, after awhile, a matter of necessity, and 
for the present she was obliged to give up the 
principal object of her own and her parents’ 
ambition — a higher position as teacher than 
she could find in her native town. 

But she very thankfully accepted the first one 
which offered, taking charge of the district 
school only half a mile from home, and trying 
to content herself with the consciousness that 
she was doing her duty at least, however much 
it might conflict with her inclination. 


44 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


No one better understood how great this con- 
flict was than Lon Morse, the hired man on 
Mr. Kenyon’s farm, and one of Sharley’s par- 
ticular friends. They had been companions 
from childhood, though Lon was Sharley’s 
senior by four years. She had three small 
brothers, but she always counted Lon as her 
oldest and ‘‘big” one. He had been in Mr. 
Kenyon’s employment ever since leaving school, 
and was an enthusiast on the subject of scien- 
tific farming. 

“ If I could have even one year in an agricul- 
tural college, Sharley, I ’d show you what I 
could do,” he was saying to her one afternoon, 
as, in his shirt sleeves and with a hoe over his 
shoulder, he overtook her on her way to Mr. 
Maynard’s house. He had been explaining to 
her some theory he had elaborated that day in 
the potato field. 

“A year is a very short time, Lon,” Sharley 
replied thoughfully. 

“ I ’d get at least tv/enty-four months out of 
it,” Lon said with determination. “ I ’m trying 
that new fertilizer I told you about last week. 
I have great faith in it if I could only get a little 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


45 


lift on my chemistry, Shari ey — get some one to 
explain a couple of things that I can't see 
through, and — " 

‘‘ Why, Agnes Haliburton, Winnie Maynard's 
cousin, you know, — she might help you out, 
Lon. Chemistry was one of the Creighton 
hobbies, but I left the Academy before I 'd fin- 
ished even the preface of mine," and she laughed 
somewhat dismally. Agnes graduated there. 
She must know about it. I '11 ask her." 

“ The explanation is simple enough, I 'm 
sure," Lon remarked, ‘‘only I can't get the clew 
to it, somehow. The technical terms bother 
me, and to be so — but thert ! I resolved long 
ago that I 'd take what I could get and be 
thankful. There 's no use in grumbling." 

“That's a discouraging fact," Sharley as- 
sented. “ It 's so easy to grumble, that if one 
could only make it profitable, it would be — 
there 's Agnes, now, coming to meet me. I 'm 
glad you can see her." 

Agnes Haliburton walked more slowly as she 
saw the two advancing, regarding them with 
disapproving eyes. They, on the contrary, were 
looking at her with great admiration. She was 


46 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


stylishly dressed in some delicate material, 
trimmed with an abundance of lace and ribbon. 
Her immense hat with drooping feathers, her 
lace parasol and long-wristed kid gloves, were 
very striking in appearance, and very novel also 
for Duxberry. Sharley liked the gloves as soon 
as she saw them. She was not quite ready to 
commit herself on the subject of the hat, but at 
any rate it was exceedingly becoming to Agnes. 

Lon Morse acknowledged his introduction to 
her in a slightly embarrassed manner, somewhat 
overwhelmed, apparently, by the elegance of 
her dress, and repulsed a little by an indefinite 
but quite perceptible coolness in her manner. 
It was plain that Miss Agnes Haliburton did 
not regard as her social equal this young man 
who stood before her in his shirt-sleeves, with 
soiled hands and a hoe over his shoulder. He 
walked on more rapidly, leaving the young girls 
together, and, leaping over a fence by the road- 
side, took his way across a wide stretch of field. 
Agnes watched him with slight interest. He 
certainly had a magnificent figure, she admitted. 

‘‘Who is he.J^” she asked, as soon as he was 
beyond hearing. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


47 


^^One of the finest fellows in Duxberry/’ 
Sharley answered, and with so mach warmth in 
her tone that Agnes in surprise turned to look 
at her. 

Why, anybody would imagine you were fond 
of him ! she exclaimed. 

“ So I am. Why not } He 's been one of 
my best friends — just like an own brother — 
ever since I can remember.'’ 

He works on a farm ? ” Agnes asserted, 
though interrogatively. 

‘‘ Yes, on ours. He lost his father and mother 
when he was a little fellow. I believe Lon 
would rather be a fine farmer than — than 
president of a railroad corporation,” she con- 
cluded. 

‘‘A high ambition,” Agnes commented, with 
just the suspicion of a sneer. 

“You would think so, Agnes, if you under- 
stood it as Lon does,” Sharley said quickly. 
“ He 's got some ideas of his own that the world 
will be better and richer for one of these days, 
or I 'm very much mistaken. He studies all the 
time he can get from his work, though some- 
times through planting and harvesting, he's 


48 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


too tired to open a book for days at a time. 
I always consider that just so much wasted 
time.*' 

‘‘What does he study Agnes asked, indif- 
ferently. 

“A little of everything. He's interested es- 
pecially in mechanics as applied to all labor- 
saving devices in farm-work, and chemistry. 
Oh, by the way, Agnes, he 's got to a puzzling 
place in his chemistry, and I thought that per- 
haps you could help him. You studied it a 
good while, and — ” 

“ But I never took the least interest in it," 
Agnes asserted. 

“This is some simple point. He says he's 
sure it 's simple, only — " 

“ Even the simplest ones would be too com- 
plicated for me, Sharley. I 'm sure I cannot 
help him." 

“ Then I 'm profoundly disappointed and 
sorry," Sharley replied, as if she meant it. 

“And made a profound mistake if you took 
me for a chemist," Agnes laughed, with some 
uneasiness. 

“ How is Winnie to-day } " Sharley asked. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


49 


evidently deeming it expedient to change the 
scientific subject for a social one. 

Brighter than I Ve seen her yet. Her case 
does n’t really seem so hopeless as it did a few 
days ago, when I first saw her. I Ve met Dr. 
Davidge, too. What a morose, disagreeable 
man he is! Yet Winnie seems to like him.” 

‘‘Did you find him disagreeable.^” Sharley 
asked. 

“ Why, certainly. Don’t you think so } ” 

“No, I don’t think so. But a stranger might 
very naturally get that impression of him. He 
is very reserved, and a little brusque in manner.” 

“A little I Very much so, I should say.” 

“You will find that he improves on acquaint- 
ance, Agnes.” 

“ Oh, I ’m not particular about any further 
acquaintance with him,” Agnes replied, in an 
off-hand manner. “ If Winnie likes him, that ’s 
enough ; and if he can cure her, we shall all be 
eternally grateful to him.” 

“ He ’s had a very unhappy life,” Sharley vol- 
unteered, almost in a tone of apology. “No- 
body knows just what he has been through ; 
he’s not the kind of man, as you see, to say 


so 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


much about himself, but he ’s had great 
trouble/' 

Well, I 'm afraid that would not make him 
any more interesting to me. It might to some 
people." 

‘‘When are you coming to see my school, 
Agnes } Bob Gridley has asked me that ques- 
tion at least a dozen times." 

“Bob Gridley!" Agnes repeated, in surprise. 

“ Why, have n't you cultivated Bob's acquaint* 
ance either, Agnes V' 

“ The idea 1 That young one I " 

“ Don't you see anything of the children, 
Charlie and Mary.'^ Mary is a very lovely little 
girl." 

“ Not a great deal. Aunt Angeline generally 
gives them their meals by themselves — with 
Bob at the head of the table, for all I know. I 
have mine with uncle Nathan, and sometimes 
with Winnie, when she feels well enough." 

As the girls entered the Maynard farmhouse, 
Sharley bowed to two women who were driving 
by in a dusty and most antiquated buggy. 

“What sorter dewin's is goin' on to Elnathan 
Maynard's, I 'd like to know } " and the elder of 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


51 


the two thrust her head from the vehicle for 
another look at the surprisingly elegant figure 
which had just passed them. 

‘‘Why, that's Elnathan's niece, John Hali- 
burton’s daughter, from New York. She's 
come to Duxberry visitin'." 

“ Fur the land’s sakes ! Well, fine feathers 
make fine birds, I 've heerd. D’ ye s’pose 
they 're paid for V 

“ Paid for } What } ” her companion re- 
peated, as if thinking of something else. 

“Why, them gloves, and all them flounces 
an' furbelows. Mebbe she wouldn't toss her 
head up quite so high if she knew all that — " 

“’Taint 'tall likely she does, an' she walks 
's if Duxberry sile was n’t half good 'nuff fur her 
to set her foot on to.” 

“There's precious little mother 'bout her, I 
reckon. It 's easy to see that. I hain’t called 
on Winnie lately. Guess I '11 take my knittin' 
an' run over there to-morrer. You better go 
too, 'Mandy. I 'd like to hear what Angeline 
'11 have to offer 'bout John Haliburton's darter, 
her new city boarder ! ” 

“That's Mrs. Slocum and her sister-in-law, 


52 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


Agnes/* Sharley was explaining to her com- 
panion, as the ancient buggy rattled down the 
road. 

I did n’t notice them,” Agnes replied in her 
most negative tone, blowing off a little dust 
from the lace parasol as she closed it ; and 
whatever further communication Sharley had 
intended to make was effectually checked by 
Agnes’s words and manner. 



CHAPTER V. 

\ 6b GRIDLEY owned a calf, given him 
by Mr. Maynard as a reward for certain 
excellences of conduct in the past, and 
an inducement for future good behavior. This 
calf was in Bob’s eyes the most desirable crea- 
ture in Duxberry. He was certainly as unique 
in appearance and temperament as Bob was 
himself, though, to Mr. Maynard’s credit, it 
should be added that in infancy, — at the time 
the gift was made, — he promised to be as good- 
looking and as well-behaved as any calf in town. 

Bob had various pet names for his four-footed 
companion, though he generally addressed him 
as Kump,” supposed to be short for ‘‘ Com- 
pany,” and expressive of the fact that his was 
the principal society cultivated by Bob. 

To say that Miss Bascom hated Kump was 
to state a very strong fact in a very weak way. 
At least a thousand times she had forbidden 
Bob to bring him into the kitchen. 


53 


54 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


‘‘ But you see, Miss Backsom, he jest comes 
along, Kump does,’' was Bob’s invariable reply, 
as, on occasions when this order was disregarded, 
happened sometimes many times a day. Little 
Charlie Maynard, enjoying to the fullest extent 
the skirmish which generally followed, always 
took refuge behind some chair, where he threat- 
ened to burst with the laughter he did not dare 
to let his aunt Angeline see or hear. 

Bob had conceived a great admiration for Miss 
Haliburton, and was determined to do some- 
thing for her entertainment. He had noticed, 
with more penetration than one would have 
given him credit for, the uneasiness and general 
discontent of that young lady. Why she never 
cared to go out to the barn, to climb over the 
haymows, or look for hens’ eggs ; why she never 
stroked the horses, or watched the cows, or fed 
the little chickens, — all these points were mat- 
ters of mystery to Bob. ‘‘Though I guess, 
Kump, it ’s the long gown and the big hat that 
would kinder git in the way,” he confided to 
his boon companion. 

But that Agnes would be pleased with Kump, 
if only she had an opportunity to make his ac- 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


SS 


quainfance, Bob never for a moment doubted. 
A chance for the experiment came very soon 
after he had decided to try it. 

Agnes was sitting in a swing under the apple- 
trees which shaded the left side of the house. 
She had been reading, but the book had fallen 
on the ground beside her hat, and she seemed 
lost in a pleasant reverie. She held an open 
letter in her hand, though her eyes were fixed 
on some distant object. 

Now you jest come along, Kump, an' see 
Miss Harry Burton. She's jest egelant, an* 
she 'll demire you, an' then we'll be" — 

Poor Bob's confidences, as well as his good 
intentions, came to a sudden end. Miss Bas- 
com, at the rear of the house, was taking up 
some clothes which had been bleaching on the 
grass. Inwardly congratulating herself that the 
articles bore no traces of Kump's marauding 
footsteps, she looked up to see Bob and the 
animal in question in confidential and mysteri- 
ous intercourse. Another glance showed her 
Agnes in the swing. Never doubting that 
Bob's intentions towards Miss Haliburton were 
as mischievous as those he frequently enter- 


56 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


tained towards herself, she made a sudden rush 
in that direction. Bob took to his heels. Agnes 
sprang up in alarm, not comprehending the 
commotion, while Kump faced his. enemy and 
plunged bravely into the conflict. With his 
feet somewhat entangled in Agnes’s hat, he yet 
managed to caper around Miss Bascom, — mak- 
ing spasmodic rushes at her, — in a way which 
effectually demoralized her. She had been 
thrown off her feet by the first attack, and after 
two or three revolutions, found herself close 
against the trunk of a tree, minus one shoe, her 
apron, and spectacles, Kump pulling persist- 
ently at her back hair. Agnes stood a dis- 
tressed and helpless spectator. 

A young man leaped suddenly over the rail 
fence which separated the orchard from the 
road, routed the enemy, and assisted the infuri- 
ated Miss Bascom to regain her physical equili- 
brium. It was plain that the restoration of her 
mental composure would be a matter of time. 
Bob approached her cautiously, shoe in hand, as 
if tendering a peace-offering, stepping on the 
spectacles as he did so, while Agnes, with the 
torn apron in one hand and her dilapidated hat 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


57 


in the other, seemed to consider herself the 
greater sufferer of the two. 

The antiquated buggy which the afternoon 
before had driven past the house, approached it 
again at that moment, Mrs. Slocum and her 
sister Amanda gazing with keen and apprecia- 
tive eyes at the dramatic situation under the 
apple-trees. 

‘‘Them's great dewin’s, ’Mandy,” Mrs. Slo- 
cum remarked sententiously. “ Had a fight, 
d ’ye s’pose } Looks like it. What on airth ’s 
Jack Godfrey into, I ’d like to know.” 

Just then Miss Bascom caught sight of her 
visitors. 

“ How d ’ye do 1 ” she called out breathlessly. 
“Just go right in. Jack’ll see to the horse,” 
and she made her way with all possible speed 
to the rear door of the house. 

“You reprobate,” the young man exclaimed, 
seizing Bob Gridley by the ear and holding him 
for an instant, in spite of his desperate wrig- 
glings, “you just step around and take that 
horse down to the barn before I thrash you for 
frightening this young lady to death,” and Bob, 
successful at last in his efforts to escape, rushed 


58 


DUX BEERY DOINGS. 


off, followed by Kump, — but not to do as Jack 
Godfrey had bidden him. 

You dew look, Angeline, 's if you'd found 
something or other that was a leetle too much 
for ye," was Mrs. Slocum's first remark, as Miss 
Bascom, arranging her hair with one hand, 
placed seats for her guests with the other. 

‘‘ Sister said mebbe you 'd had a fight," Aman- 
da Slocum added, with her customary simper. 

It did look like it when we fust seen ye, under 
them trees." 

‘‘ It 's only some of Bob's doings, you might 
know," Miss Bascom explained, devoting both 
hands at that moment to the adjustment of her 
hair. “ It 's lucky for him that I 'm going away 
to-morrow, or he'd sup sorrow with a hot 
spoon." 

Coin' away ! " the two ladies exclaimed in 
concert. 

“Yes. The deacon's got a sore throat, and 
Ellen's baby 's cutting its teeth, and " — 

“ I did n't know but you 'd found the young 
lady from the city too much trouble," Mrs. Slo- 
cum interrupted. “ I was tellin' 'Mandy as we 
was cornin' along that I guessed you had your 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


59 


hands full now, ef you never had before. She 
don’t help you none with the work, I s’pose ? ” 

‘‘She! Did you ever see a butterfly wash 
dishes ? ” was Miss Bascom’s somewhat surpris- 
ing response. 

“ How long ’s she goin’ to stay ? ” one of the 
ladies inquired. 

“Till her father comes to take her where 
she ’ll be happier than she is in Duxberry. The 
clocks in this town don’t go half fast enough to 
suit her. I feel sorry for her myself.” 

“ Where ’s her father now ? ” 

“ Trying to turn a coal-hod into a chariot, as 
usual. He’s gone to Europe to hunt up the 
trees that money grows on. I hope he ’ll find 
them, and that the crops are good this year. 
There’s need enough.” 

“ That gal don’t look ’s if she could do the 
fust livin’ thing,” Mrs. Slocum observed during 
a little pause in the conversation, “An’ Wini- 
fred Maynard’s own cousin, too 1 Jest think 
of it!” 

“You can’t expect a bird of paradise to go 
into the water with the ducks, even if it ’s been 
hatched by a duck on a duck’s nest, — which 


6o 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


Agnes Haliburton was n’t/' she concluded with 
a literal ending to her metaphor. 

Sharley Kenyon on her way home from 
school, — a little late that afternoon, — was smil- 
ing as she entered Winnie’s room. 

‘‘ Agnes is in the swing under the apple-trees,” 
she said, ‘‘and Jack is talking to her at a great 
rate. They didn’t see me, and I thought I 
would n’t interrupt them. Jack thinks Agnes 
is the handsomest girl he ever saw in his life.” 

“ And he tells you that, Sharley ! ” 

“Why not.? No one ever accused me of 
being handsome. I knew Agnes would like 
Jack, he ’s so different, you know, from most of 
the Duxberry boys.” 

“ I ’ve no doubt he ’s more like the young 
men she has associated with,” Winnie replied. 
“ He ’s quite fine for Duxberry. She told me 
the day she was introduced to him that he 
did n’t look a bit ‘ countrified.’ ” 

Both of the girls laughed. 

“ She does n’t like Lon,” Sharley said. “ He 
was with me yesterday when she met me down 
the road. They did look funny as they stood 
there facing each other. It was patrician and 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


6l 


plebeian, for Lon had been hoeing, and you can 
imagine how he looked. He is working harder 
than ever, Winnie, on something for the fair. 
It ’s a great secret. He won't even give me the 
slightest clew to it." 

‘‘ Lon has found time to do a great deal for 
Mrs. Lawton, Sharley, if he is working hard. 
You 've no idea how grateful she is." 

“ Why, what has he done } " 

‘‘ Don't you know 

I did n't know that he 'd done anything. 
He has n't mentioned it." 

‘‘ I believe he 's mended every piece of furni- 
ture in the house, — for I guess every piece 
needed it, — and you know Tom has n't the least 
knack about things of that kind. He 's put up 
a lot of shelves for her, fixed the cistern-cover 
she was always afraid the children would tumble 
through, and the roof of the wood-shed. Tom 
will cut and split wood enough to fill it, I 've no 
doubt, but he never could have mended the 
roof, you know, if it had rained in enough to 
float off every stick ! " 

“ Lon's left hand will never know what his 
right one is doing, if it depends on him for the 


62 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


information. I never knew such a fellow for 
doing ‘good by stealth/ and — what’s the rest 
of that quotation, Winnie } ” 

“‘Do good by stealth and blush to find it 
fame,’ ” Winnie repeated. 

“ That ’s it, only there never can be very 
much fame for him in this little town. He 
does n’t think himself there ’s much chance 
for him, either, though, of course, he must stay 
here for the present.” 

“The Bond girls came to-day to call on 
Agnes.” 

“Yes,” Sharley replied, “I met them, and 
they told me they had been here.” 

“Did they tell you how they liked her.?” 
Winnie inquired with interest. 

“ They were enthusiastic about her appear- 
ance, but were sure she was very proud.” 

“I was afraid they might get that impres- 
sion.” 

“ She certainly has a wonderful figure, and 
her complexion is dazzling. She ’s made a great 
sensation in the village, Winnie.” 

“ I should n’t be surprised. Her style is very 
unlike that of most of the Duxberry girls.” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


63 


“ Some of them profess to be quite afraid of 
her, but I don’t wonder that she holds herself a 
little aloof from Duxberry folks and doesn’t 
take readily to Duxberry ways. I find myself 
forgetting sometimes how differently she has 
lived all her life.” 

And a better-hearted girl I never saw,” Win- 
nie exclaimed warmly. ‘‘ I feel sorry for her, — 
there is so little here to interest her. She 
does n’t care particularly for the country, any- 
way. She wouldn’t enjoy the long tramps you 
and I used to take, Sharley, even if I were able 
to go with her.” 

Do you know, Winnie,” Sharley said im- 
pulsively, I ’m a little curious to know some- 
thing of Agnes’s ideas of life. She evidently 
has them, and very decided ones, too. Her cir- 
cumstances have been so different from yours 
and mine, — in fact, from those of any girl we 
know, — that I wonder how we seem to her.” 

I mean to ask her some time,” Winnie said 
as impulsively. What ’s that ^ ” 

They both listened for an instant. 

‘‘Bob’s in disgrace again, I’m afraid,” Win- 
nie said the next moment. 


64 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


‘‘ If Miss Angeline would only appeal to his 
heart as often as she does to his head ! ” was 
Sharley’s comment. ‘‘I ’ll go and see what the 
matter is.” 

She crossed the hall, passed through the par- 
lor and out into the kitchen, where — in Dux- 
berry fashion — Miss Bascom was entertaining 
her guests. Bob’s lank figure was slouching 
out of the doorway, followed by an energetic 
remark. 

“ And if you don’t find that horse and buggy 
you ’ll find something else that you can’t man- 
age half so easy.” 

Good afternoon Mrs. Slocum — Amanda,” 
and Miss Kenyon shook hands with the two 
ladies. ‘‘You don’t mean. Miss Angeline,” 
she added, turning towards her as she spoke, 
“ that Bob has lost a horse and buggy any- 
where 

“That’s just what I do mean — exactly!” 
was Miss Bascom’s reply. “That boy would 
put a house and lot where you’d never find 
them if he took a notion.” 

“ But you told Jack Godfrey to put the horse 
up — I heerd ye,” remarked Miss Amanda Slo- 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


65 


cum, with a look at Miss Kenyon. “ Mebbe he 
did n’t though ; he was too much occurpied 
listenin’ to some one else.” 

She drew a handkerchief from the reticule 
which was never in her waking moments — nor, 
presumably, in her sleeping ones — beyond her 
reach, and make several little dabs with it at 
the corners of her mouth. It was a character- 
istic motion with her, generally preceding, or 
following, some offensive remark. 

“ Jack Godfrey’s head ’ll alius save his heels,” 
she pursued, as she thrust the handkerchief 
into the depths of the reticule and shut it with 
a snap. “ He aint never goin’ to take no 
trouble that he can shirk.” 

Miss Kenyon might have heard the whole of 
the remark, but she was out of doors before it 
was finished. 

Jack Godfrey and Agnes Haliburton were 
still beneath the apple-trees. Agnes had re- 
sumed her seat in the swing and Jack was half- 
reclining on the grass at her feet. 

“ Oh, Sharley ! ” Agnes called out eagerly, as 
she caught sight of her, and making room for 
her in the swing, she wound her arm about her 


66 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


friend's waist and proceeded to give her full 
particulars of the events of the day, concluding 
with a graphic account of Miss Bascom's en- 
counter with Kump. 

And now those women have come to spend 
the rest of the day," she added lugubriously, 
after they had all laughed over the history. 
‘‘ Mr. Godfrey says they are horrid. Are they, 
Sharley ? " 

Sharley and Jack exchanged significant 
glances, the former laughing again as she 
recalled the comments to which she had just 
listened. 

‘‘It is n't fair to prejudice Agnes, Jack," she 
said. “ Let her judge for herself." 

“ It will not take many minutes for her to 
do that," Jack Godfrey replied, “and she will 
think just as we do. Have n't they been going 
for me, Sharley, in their usual style You 
might as well own up. You know it can't 
hurt my feelings, though it 's a great relief to 
theirs." 

“There has been a little discussion. Jack," 
Sharley said slowly, “concerning the Slocum 
horse and buggy. The owners appear to hold 


V 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 6 / 

you responsible, though Miss Angeline has sent 
Bob for it, and — '' 

“You don’t mean that Bob didn’t put the 
horse up ?” Jack exclaimed, springing to his 
feet. 

“ So it seems. The horse has made way with 
himself and the buggy, at any rate.” 

“And the horrid Slocums can’t go home if 
they want to ! ” Agnes cried. 

“It shan’t be for want of a vehicle. Miss 
Haliburton,” and Jack picked up his hat a"S he 
spoke. “ Come, Sharley, I ’ll hunt up the buggy 
while you look for the boy,” and taking leave of 
Miss Haliburton, he went off on his errand, 
more vexed with himself. Bob, and the objec- 
tionable Slocums, than was indicated by his 


manner. 


CHAPTER VI. 


MYRON DAVIDGE, sitting in an 
imense arm-chair which had the effect 
making his figure appear even more 
slender than it really was, had a far-off expres- 
sion in his eyes, though they were fixed upon a 
book he was holding in his hands. 

‘‘ ‘And a little child shall lead them.’ ” 

He said the words very slowly, as, rous- 
ing himself at last from his long reverie, he 
glanced at the young girl lying on the lounge 
opposite. 

“I often think of that expressive metaphor 
when I think of you. Miss Winnie. I wonder 
if, after all, yours is the divine philosophy. 
You believe in something. I do not. What 
an enormous difference ! ” 

“You were not so fortunate as I in being 
taught to believe,” Winnie said gently. 

“Your education in that respect is a con- 
stant surprise to me. Where did you get it?” 

68 



DUXBERRY DOINGS. 69 

From my mother,” Winnie answered rev- 
erently. 

And she got it from hers, I suppose. It is 
the mothers who make the world, they say-” 

No. Her mother died when she was quite 
small. Her sister, my aunt Melinda, brought 
her up. I can remember Aunt Melinda my- 
self,” she went on. ‘‘ She was my ideal of an 
angel, though she was bent, and withered, and 
wore spectacles — ” 

‘‘Where was the angel .^” the doctor asked, 
with a slight smile, as Winnie paused in a sort 
of reverie. 

“Where it was as independent of the flesh 
and blood as the clothes she wore. They were 
not Aunt Melinda, neither were the brown, 
wrinkled face and hands. This body is only 
our earthly tabernacle, you know.” 

“Yes, it certainly is that, and I know nothing 
about any other. Did Aunt Melinda have one 
of those model mothers in her turn } ” 

“I don't know about that. But she had 
something, years before I was born, that is 
called a great educator. Dr. Davidge.” 

“ And that was — ? ” 


70 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


“ A great trouble/^ 

Nonsense, Miss Winnie ! 

For a moment the doctor looked angry as 
well as contemptuous. Winifred did not ap- 
pear in the least disturbed. 

^^You always want proofs — convincing evi- 
dence, you call it — before you accept anything 
as a fact. Isn't there proof enough all about 
u§ that trouble develops the best there is in 
us.?" 

What proof do you find .? " the doctor asked 
in his turn. 

“I believe my Aunt Melinda would have 
been proof enough for me if I had never had 
any other." 

‘‘ Please prove to me, my dear Miss Winnie, 
that she would not have been so good a woman 
if she had been a happier one." 

Winifred’s face kept its gravity, though the 
twinkle came gradually into her eyes, 
can’t do that. Dr. Davidge." 

So I thought." 

But I can prove something else," she said 
confidently, after a little hesitation, that hap- 
piness and prosperity — having your own way. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


71 


you know, in everything — does not improve 
anyone/' 

How so ? " 

Such people — all that I Ve known, I mean 
— were selfish and thoughtless, sometimes cruel 
and unjust, and — " 

She spoke slowly, and at last stopped alto- 
gether. 

But I must ask you to prove that th^y 
would have been any less selfish, thought- 
less, or cruel, if they had not had their own 
way." 

Winifred shook her head a little sadly. 

I can’t do that, either," she said. 

In which case I am just as poorly off for 
proofs as I was before. Miss Winnie. It is a 
matter of opinion, you see, after all ; not a mat- 
ter of fact." 

‘‘ I ’ve had a great deal of time for thinking 
since I ’ve been lying here," Winnie said, after 
a long pause between them. ^‘You might not 
call it reasoning, but I ’ve tried to reason, too, 
as well as I could. I ’ve th.ought a great deal 
about you. Dr. Davidge." 

‘‘About me!" 


72 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


He stirred a little, looking at her with some 
surprise. 

I think a doctor has the greatest oppor- 
tunity in the world for doing good,'* she con- 
tinued. 

I try to be faithful to my profession,” he re- 
sponded coldly. 

‘‘ But you have no heart in it, you say. You 
believe that the day of one's death is better 
than the day of one’s birth.” 

^^Life is too full of trouble. Miss Winnie — 
the persons who have their way in everything 
being too few to be worth counting — to be 
particularly desirable.” 

‘‘Yet you do your best to save the lives of 
your patients } ” 

Dr. Davidge shrugged his shoulders. The 
shadow of one of his rare smiles just touched 
his mouth and lingered there. 

“ And consequently, you argue, I show them 
no kindness in so doing. But I ’m not at lib- 
erty to kill any one, and should not avail myself 
of the privilege if I were. Most men are wil- 
ling — are very anxious — to live, and no one 
wants to suffer pain. I do my best to relieve 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


73 


the suffering and save the life. If I save it 
simply for greater suffering — ''he made an 
expressive gesture — ‘‘I hold myself in no way 
responsible. I 've done my duty as I under- 
stand it. Miss Angeline has not gone yet } " 
he asked, after an interval of silence which 
Winnie did not seem disposed to break. 

Oh, no. She goes over to the deacon's 
every few days, to Mrs. Barker’s every even- 
ing, and at least twice a day gives notice that 
she intends to leave us fdr all time." 

‘‘While you are longing to be about again for 
the sake of those you both feel must be taken 
care of 

“Yes, indeed. You can't wonder at that." 

“Do you never think of your own enjoy- 
ment.?" he inquired, somewhat curiously, “of 
what comfort you could have yourself if you 
were well and strong again .? " 

“ Why, that would be my comfort — all the 
enjoyment I should want — now." She made 
quite a pause between the last two words. “ I 
couldn’t have said that a year ago. Dr. Dav- 
idge." 

“ So you infer that you are growing in grace .? ” 


74 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


I try to believe so — and I try to grow. But 
it 's dreadfully hard work, doctor, sometimes, 
and — Her lip quivered, just enough to 
check the remaining words. 

Dr. Davidge was watching her, but he did not 
speak. Instead, he rose quickly, placed his hand 
firmly on her head, where he held it for half a 
minute or more, then took his hat from the 
table. 

‘‘ Remember,*' he said, as he laid aside the 
book which he had been holding while he talked, 
‘‘if it is as pleasant to-morrow, and you are 
feeling as well, I shall come to take you to 
drive.” 

He went away without any further words, but 
there was a strange expression on his face as he 
unfastened his horse and stepped into the buggy. 
He did not attempt to gather up the reins. 
They remained as he had left them, fastened 
around the dashboard, and the horse jogged 
along at a leisurely pace towards home. 

Myron Davidge was a solitary man as well 
as an unhappy one. The first fact was evi- 
dent to everybody, though it was only among 
a few that his morbid -mental condition was 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


75 


equally well known. He had left Duxberry 
years before, a very promising and exceedingly 
popular young man, to enter college. His 
graduation with high honors, his beginning of a 
professional career, his marriage a year or two 
later, were all known to the Duxberry residents, 
though his home was in a distant city and he 
made few visits to the village. Suddenly — and 
several years after anything had been heard of 
of him — he reappeared, stepped into the niche 
left vacant by the death of the favorite Dux- 
berry doctor, and announced his intention of 
remaining. Everyone who remembered him 
welcomed him warmly ; though it would have 
been unnatural if his coming alone, and vol- 
unteering no information about himself or 
his affairs, had not excited a great deal of 
gossip. 

He lived in the handsomest house in Dux- 
berry — the one which had been owned by his 
predecessor — with a man-servant whom he had 
procured no one knew where. It was certainly 
from no lack of effort on the part of the vil- 
lagers that nothing could be learned from this 
individual concerning himself or his employer. 


76 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


So far as such information went, he might have 
been deaf and dumb. He combined the posi- 
tions of cook, housekeeper, and gardener, and, 
from outward indications, was equal to each 
one of them. Mrs. Slocum and her sister 
Amanda had openly acknowledged that they 
called upon the doctor in his office one day 
merely for the sake of examining the condi- 
tion of such carpets and furniture as could be 
seen in so limited a visit. Moreover, they had 
delicately hinted at their need of some slight 
refreshment after a fatiguing walk, and were 
served with cake and cream, upon plates, in 
goblets, and with napkins, that they declared 
would not have disgraced any housekeeper in 
Duxberry. They had left the house quite as 
much mystified, and with just as little medicine 
as they had entered it, their physician appa 
rently appreciating and humoring the object 
of the call. 

Dr. Davidge was thinking of many things as 
he drove slowly along that afternoon. But 
more than anything he thought — the words 
beating through and through his tired brain 
with relentless persistency — of the lines he 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


77 


had read in Winifred Maynard's room a little 
while before : — 

“The hero is not fed on sweets, 

Daily his own heart he eats ; 

Chambers of the great are jails, 

And headwinds right for royal sails/^ 

And Winnie ? 

It had been one of her discouraged days. 
She had looked forward with some pleasure to 
Dr. Davidge's call, but it had proved a most 
disappointing one. She picked up the book he 
had laid aside, and opened it again at those 
stirring lines. But the ring of the bold, strong 
words had gone out of them. She wondered 
how they could ever have sounded like the 
trumpet-call to conflict and victory. Heroism 
was no doubt a very good thing — a very grand 
thing, but more than anything just then she 
craved the sweets which are denied to the hero. 
Her chamber was indeed a jail. She found no 
greatness in herself or her surroundings to 
reconcile her to her limitations, and — in transi- 
tion from the passive to the active metaphor — 
she had so long struggled against wind and tide 
that she was worn out with the effort. Theory 


78 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


and practice did not always go side by side with 
Winifred Maynard any more than with other 
persons, though she tried harder than many to 
reconcile them, and her failure was less evident. 
The clouds settled down more heavily as the 
afternoon wore on, and before the early twi- 
light Winnie was indulging herself in that occu- 
pation known by the peculiar expression, ^‘a 
good cry. 

Her cousin Agnes came in suddenly, too ab- 
sorbed at that moment with her own pleasure 
to notice Winnie's mood, even if the dusk had 
not settled in the room. She held an open 
letter in her hand and danced with it beside her 
cousin's lounge." 

News from father ! " she exclaimed exult- 
antly. ^‘He will be here on the twenty-fifth. 
If you were only able to go to Saratoga with 
me, Winnie, I should be just perfectly happy ! " 
and if she were anything less than perfectly 
happy at that moment, the radiant and expres- 
sive face gave no sign of the fact. 


CHAPTER VII. 



(^R. JOHN HALIBURTON arrived in 
Burberry at the time designated, a fact 
which was known throughout the vil- 
lage within three hours of his appearance at 
the railroad station. 

He was a very large and a very handsome 
man, — one of the kind who seem to fill every 
room which they enter, and monopolize the 
attention of every person in it. The parlor of 
the Maynard farmhouse never seemed so small 
as when pervaded by John Haliburton’s impos- 
ing presence. 

Agnes had the profoundest love, as well as 
admiration, for her father. She gazed at him 
with adoring eyes, listening intently as he de- 
scribed in his easy, fascinating manner his 
hurried trip abroad. 

“ And you know you longed all the time to 
have me with you,” Agnes said, smiling. 
‘‘When are you going again, sir, and going to 

79 


8o 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


take me with you ? I can be ready, you know, 
at an hour’s notice.” 

“ My plans were never more unsettled than 
they are at present,” her father said in reply. 

I think I see an opening in London that 
will — ” 

Will take you back there ? ” Agnes inquired 
eagerly. 

Perhaps so, but at any rate that there ’s a 
tremendous amount of money in. The only 
trouble is that I must go more slowly than suits 
me. I Ve got too much invested in other direc- 
tions, and if the market doesn’t — you’re en- 
joying yourself here, are n’t you ? ” he suddenly 
interrupted himself to inquire. 

‘‘Enjoying myself!” Agnes repeated, with a 
wry face, at which her father laughed. “ Oh, 
yes ! Excessively ! There ’s so much to enjoy, 
you see ! But I ’m not having such a remark- 
ably good time that I can’t tear myself away to 
go with you, father.” 

“Well, now, there’s just the trouble,” her 
father said mysteriously, and a little more slowly 
than he usually talked. 

“The trouble ? ” Agnes repeated, with vague 


DUX BERRY DOINGS, 


8l 


idea of his meaning. ^‘It won't trouble me 
much to leave Duxberry, if that 's what you 're 
talking about." 

“ But you see," he began in explanation, 
“things are so complicated just at present that 
I — at any rate you 'd be willing to stay here a 
little while longer, would n't you } " 

“ Oh, father ! " 

“ I shall have to go to Pennsylvania right off. 
I thought at first I 'd have to write you instead 
of coming to Duxberry, for time 's precious 
with me, you know, always. The strikes among 
the miners have worked mischief for us, and 
the coal market is " — 

“ I don't see what the coal market has to do 
with it," Agnes interrupted with great impa- 
tience. “You never talked about coal markets 
and money markets till this summer. Some- 
thing must be all wrong somehow." 

“ There 's nothing wrong, child," her father 
replied, a little impatient in his turn, “nothing, I 
mean, that can't be set right in a very few days 
or weeks. Sometimes twenty-four hours — even 
less time than that — changes the whole finan- 
cial situation. But a man must keep his eyes 


82 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


open and be on hand, especially where large in- 
terests are involved, as in my case/' 

“ But I should n't think I need to stay in 
Duxberry, even if you do go to Pennsylvania. 
The Duncans are at Saratoga this summer, 
as they were last year. I had a letter from 
Bell Duncan day before yesterday, asking me 
when I was coming ; and I could wait for you 
there just as well as here — and a good deal 
more comfortably," she concluded with em- 
phasis. 

John Haliburton looked at his daughter with 
great tenderness. She was dearer to him than 
anything else in the world. For the first time 
in his life he had been compelled to deny her 
some things which she coveted, and he must 
do it again. It was a hard task for the affec- 
tionate, indulgent father, and self-denial was no 
easy thing to the child. She had never been 
taught anything of that kind in Creighton 
Academy or elsewhere, and instruction in that 
particular branch of moral philosophy becomes 
difficult in proportion to its delay. 

‘‘ If I could have a day or two in New York for 
shopping it would be such a comfort ! " Agnes 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


83 


went on, as her father did not speak. ‘‘ I came 
away in such a hurry this summer that I did n’t 
feel half ready. But I ’d rather go to Sara- 
toga shabby, than not go at all.” 

“Then you certainly must be anxious,” her 
father said with a half smile, looking anxious 
himself, though from a far different cause. 

Little Mary Maynard came shyly into the 
room with a message, which she delivered from 
a safe position by the door. 

“ Winnie says she wants you both to come in 
and see her now. Uncle John. She’s put on 
her pretty wrapper on purpose,” the child added 
on her own responsibility, somewhat emboldened 
by the gentleman’s smile. 

John Haliburton and his niece fairly repre- 
sented the extremes of physical as well as of 
social and spiritual life. Some such thought 
was in the minds of each of them as they met 
in the quiet little room. The man of the world 
was profoundly touched as he looked into the 
clear, brave eyes of the young girl, while she 
fully understood and appreciated the sympathy 
which she saw in his. 

“Yet you have come to take Agnes away 


84 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


from me/' she said in what was intended for a 
reproachful tone. 

‘‘ I hope Agnes has done everything in her 
power to make it pleasanter for you since she 
came." 

‘'Yes, indeed, and I never felt so selfish in 
my life." 

Though the remark was not a particularly 
clear one, it needed no interpretation. But 
Agnes felt a sudden pang. It was a sensation 
she had experienced several times since living 
with her cousin Winnie. A question took in- 
stant and definite shape in her mind — “ What 
have I done to make it pleasanter for her } I 
could have done so much." Never before had 
she so fully realized it. 

“ She has told me a great deal that was inter- 
esting about her New York life and her city 
friends," Winnie remarked, almost as if in an- 
swer to Agnes's mental question. “ It is all 
new and strange to me, of course. I never tire 
of hearing about it, or asking questions — co- 
nundrums she calls them, sometimes. And no 
doubt they are queer ones — but I know so 
little about that kind of life." 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


85 


Agnes wondered if Winnie could specify any- 
thing else which had been done ‘‘to make it 
pleasant for her.’’ And those long talks — why, 
it was for the enjoyment she herself found in 
them — quite as much as for any pleasure they 
gave Winnie — that she had “ told her so much 
that was interesting.” Agnes felt mean and 
selfish — consequently uncomfortable. It was 
strange how often Winnie had that effect upon 
her, though she never said a word or did a single 
thing that — 

“ I ’ve felt so sorry on Agnes’s account,” 
Winnie was saying, “ that I could do nothing at 
all to make her visit pleasant. Duxberry is dull 
enough nowadays, still if I could get around as 
I used to, it would n’t have been quite so stupid 
for her.” 

“You’ve not outgrown your early propensi- 
ties, I see, Winnie,” Mr. Haliburton remarked 
kindly. 

“What do you mean by that, father ? ” Agnes 
inquired, seeing by the expression of Winnie’s 
face that she was equally in the dark. 

“ Oh, to think of everybody else before her- 
self ; to sympathize with their troubles so much 


86 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


as to forget all about her own. I remember 
when you were a very little lady — not older 
than Mary is now — how you cried because 
your aunt Melinda cut her hand, and you did n’t 
remember till you went to bed that night that 
you ’d broken your doll’s head and had n’t eaten 
anything all day long. I suppose you forget 
now occasionally whether you ’ve had your din- 
ner in wondering whether the rest of the family 
are provided with theirs.” 

Winnie shook her head with a smile. 

‘‘ I should never have that anxiety, with Aunt 
Angeline managing things.” 

‘‘Your Aunt Angeline is not fond of me, you 
know.” 

Winnie’s smile broke into a laugh. Agnes 
looked interested. She had suspected as much. 

“Yet I doubt if you could find anyone in Dux- 
berry more ready to do you a favor, if you should 
want one.” 

“ Oh, yes, I ’m quite familiar with her reputa- 
tion. But I shall be very careful not to ask her 
until we have settled the old scores between us. 
You’ll be glad to know that I can do it within 
the very next year at the longest.” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 87 

‘‘Yes, I 'm very glad. Aunt Angeline never 
forgets it — or lets any one else.'’ 

Agnes determined to ask her father for an 
explanation at the first opportunity. He had 
just begun on another subject when callers 
arrived — two young ladies to see Winnie and 
Agnes. Mr. Haliburton rose to go. 

“ Your father 's in the barn, and I want a little 
talk with him. I ’ll come in again, Winnie, to- 
night, or to-morrow morning, as you please.” 

Agnes looked longingly after her father as he 
went out of the room, feeling quite heroic and 
self-sacrificing as she devoted herself to the en- 
tertainment of the new arrivals, a task she would 
gladly have left wholly to Winnie. 

Elnathan Maynard was busy repairing some 
farming tools. He looked up with an expression 
of pleasure as the majestic figure of his brother- 
in-law darkened the doorway. 

“Come in, come in, John,” he said heartily. 
“ I don’t s’pose you ’ll mind the litter. It ’s 
the kind of work that has to be done, you 
know.” 

He cleared a little bench as he spoke, and 
pushed it towards him. John Haliburton took 


88 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


the proffered seat, watching Mr. Maynard as he 
resumed his work. 

‘‘ Do you never get tired of it and want a 
change, Nathan V he asked at length and as if 
from some profound thought concerning the 
farmer’s occupation. 

‘‘Queer, John, but at that very minute I had 
just such a question in my mind about you ! 
Only I should have said, Do you never get tired 
of it and want to settle down } There ’s an im- 
mense difference in our kinds of life, but on 
the whole I ’m pretty well satisfied with mine. 
Lucky for me, you might say, for I have no 
choice in the matter.” 

“Well, I ’ll confess that sometimes the settling- 
down, as you call it, does look a little tempting, 
but it ’s only when I ’ve had a run of hard luck 
— which doesn’t happen often. I should get 
uneasy again in a month — I ’m sure of it.” 

“ No doubt. It all depends on what one ’s 
used to, I suppose.” 

“I fully expected, Nathan, that I could do 
something for you before this time. But things 
have been so extremely uncertain — and they 
are now, for that matter. I made a turn on 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 89 

wheat last spring that promised to bring every- 
thing up even, but the corner in Chicago — ’’ 
‘‘You’d be surprised, John, and I’m pretty 
sure disgusted, if you had any idea how little 
I understand about such matters. I must be 
downright stupid, for I can’t get them through 
my head even when I read explanations in the 
newspapers, as I do sometimes, just for curi- 
osity.” 

“ Oh, one must be on ’Change and on the 
street — practically — to have a clear idea of the 
moves of the game. It ’s a bewildering one, 
sometimes, even to the initiated. But I ’m 
pretty sure, now, of straightening things out to 
my satisfaction within a very few months. It ’s 
only just for the present that I ’m desperately 
cramped. I see two or three fine openings, and 
if nothing happens to upset my calculations, I 
can make a profitable turn during that time, and 
get things on a more substantial basis. I sup- 
pose Agnes can stay here a while longer } ” 

“ Why, of course she can stay,” Mr. Maynard 
answered. “ We ’d be glad to have her if she 
wants to.” 

“She does n’t want to — exactly,” Mr. Hali- 


90 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


burton attempted to explain, feeling an awk- 
wardness very unusual to him. ‘‘ That is, she 's 
set her heart on going to Saratoga, — it ’s rather 
gayer there for a young girl, you know, — and it 's 
going to be a great disappointment. But there 
are some reasons why I 'd like to have her stay 
here for two or three weeks longer. You un- 
derstand she ’s not here as a visitor, Nathan, 
anyway. Of course I expect to — 

Mr. Maynard made a gesture. 

‘‘ Not a word about that, John, not a word ! 
he exclaimed, evidently understanding as well 
as resenting the unfinished statement. ‘‘You 
know perfectly well that Agnes is more than 
welcome to stay here just as long as she can 
content herself — or you want to leave her,’' he 
concluded on second thought. 

“ She and Winnie seem very fond of each 
other.” 

“ So they are — there 's no doubt of it.” 

“ And I 'd be glad, Nathan, to see Agnes a 
little more like her cousin in some things. Win- 
nie is so unselfish, — so considerate of others. 
She always was, even as a little child.” 

“ Then it 's no particular credit to her, I sup- 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


91 


pose,” Mr. Maynard said with a smile. ‘‘ She 
certainly did not lack good examples in those 
particulars — her mother and Melinda.” The 
smile faded at the last words. The sentence 
ended with a little sigh. John Haliburton’s face 
was very grave also. 

If Agnes could only have had her mother all 
these years, Nathan ! ” he said, with a great 
yearning in his tone. ‘‘ She ’d have been more 
like Winnie then ; she could n’t have helped 
it.” 

‘‘Yet Agnes is a very lovely girl, John,” Mr. 
Maynard said warmly, “ and a very affectionate 
one — a little spoiled, perhaps, by indulgence. 
She ’s had her own way, you know, pretty com- 
pletely, and it has naturally made her a little 
more selfish than — ” 

“ Mrs. Backsom, she says as how you ’re to 
come inter supper, you an’ Mr. Rollin’stone. 
That ’s what she said,” and Bob Gridley, having 
delivered the message from the barn doorway, 
went onward with the calm consciousness of 
duty done. 

Apparently neither of his hearers noticed the 
words, so much as the sense, of his communica- 


92 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


tion ; but the reason for the new name would 
not have been hard to find if they had felt the 
least curiosity on the subject. 

Amanda Slocum had stepped into the house a 
few minutes before to learn fuller particulars of 
John Haliburton’s arrival than she could gather 
anywhere else in the village. Bob had over- 
heard a few words of the conversation. 

‘‘He ’s as big as ever.'^ ” Mrs. Slocum had in- 
quired. 

“ As big as ever, and just as much of a rolling 
stone as ever, with as little moss on him, too, if 
I 'm any judge.” 

“ Rollin' stone ! That would be a fust-rate 
name for him, would n't it } '' 

“That is his name — if it ever belonged to 
any man in this world,'' Miss Bascom stated 
emphatically, and Bob forthwith adopted and 
applied it. 


CHAPTER VIIL 


HE disappointment of Agnes Halibur- 
ton when she found that she must re- 
main still longer in Duxberry was one 
of the greatest she had ever experienced. Lest 
the statement should seem like an exaggeration, 
it should be borne in mind that everything in 
human life is great or small by contrast and 
comparison. She had once been disappointed 
in a pair of gloves her father had sent her for a 
party. They had four buttons instead of six, 
as she had particularly specified, and she had 
cried for half an hour over the deficiency. Life 
had seemed a burden, and the universe a dreary 
waste on account of the missing buttons. To 
a larger nature and a wider experience, such 
a trial would, of course, be the merest triviality. 
To Agnes, who had never known a greater one, 
it seemed little less than a tragedy. 

Her father's regret for the disagreeable neces- 
sity forced upon him by circumstances, his ex- 

93 



94 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


planations of the present difficulty, and promises 
for future indulgence, did something towards 
reconciling Agnes to the change of plan which 
she found so annoying. She saw him leave 
Duxberry in quite a composed frame of mind, 
and heroically set herself to work to make the 
best of the situation. He was to return for 
her in three weeks at the latest, and possibly 
sooner. 

Agnes had anticipated so short a visit in 
Duxberry, and had felt so little interest in its 
population, that she had returned none of the 
calls which had been made upon her, nor 
attempted to create for herself any special 
interests. The additional three weeks stretched 
out before her to such an interminable length 
that in sheer desperation she decided to improve 
her few social opportunities, and see if it were 
possible that any good thing could come out of 
Duxberry or Duxberry people. 

She had made but one visit to Sharley's 
school, notwithstanding Sharley's repeated invi- 
tations ; and even that one was more in inten- 
tion than in reality. She had reached the little 
school-house as the scholars were being dis- 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


95 


missed, and though she had gone in and sat 
with Sharley for a few minutes, neither of them 
felt that the call was in any sense a call upon 
the school, which was what Sharley wanted. 

Agnes made a sudden resolution to gratify 
her friend, and at the same time see if there 
were any entertainment to be found for herself 
by such a visit as had been proposed. To that 
end she started one morning with Charlie and 
Mary Maynard, Bob Gridley attaching himself 
to the party at intervals. The intervening 
spaces of time were devoted to a series of the 
most astonishing gymnastic exercises by the 
roadside, expressive of his delight at the pres- 
ence of “ Miss Harry Burton.’' 

Sharley Kenyon’s gratification was apparently 
as great as Bob’s, though manifested in a less 
vehement manner ; and even before the session 
had fairly begun Agnes found herself absorbed 
in the study of the different children, none of 
whom resembled the one described by the mel- 
ancholy Jacques, “ creeping like snail unwil- 
lingly to school.” They rushed chattering into 
the school-house as if glad to get to it, and 
anxious to see who should enter first. At least 


96 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


a dozen of them brought floral contributions to 
the teacher's desk — from a handful of daisies 
or dandelions plucked from the wayside, to 
choice blossoms from the owner's well-kept 
garden. It was no small amusement to Agnes 
to hear Sharley's expressions of thanks to the 
small and enthusiastic givers, and watch the 
ingenious way in which she displayed each gift 
upon her desk to the best advantage. Bob 
Gridley’s contribution that particular morning 
consisted of an enormous bunch of poppies, 
suggestive, in color and size, of the warmth 
and extent of his devotion. 

Agnes was startled by the sudden stillness 
which fell upon the noisy group at the touch 
of the teacher’s bell. In some inexplicable 
manner each pupil seemed to subside into his 
allotted seat in a way which instantly produced 
order out of chaos. A moment before she 
would have said that such a speedy change 
could not possibly have been brought about 
by anything less than a comprehensive stroke 
of paralysis. 

‘‘ This morning,” Sharley began without any 
formal opening of the school or introduction of 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


97 


her subject, ‘‘ I counted fifteen rows on the 
largest spider-web I found on my way to 
school/’ 

There was an involuntary and quickly sup- 
pressed ‘‘Whew ! ” from one of the pupils, and 
several hands were quickly raised. 

“ Neddie Thomas,” Sharley called out, select- 
ing first the smallest boy among them. 

“ I only found eleven,” he replied. 

“And I nine,” announced another, respond- 
ing to Sharley’s nod. 

“ I only found five,” the fourth pupil, a girl, 
responded ruefully ; “ I did n’t see any big webs 
anywhere.” 

“Fifteen, eleven, nine, five,” Sharley re- 
peated. “ Now who can tell me whether the 
rows on spiders’ webs are always in uneven 
numbers or not ?” 

Every hand that had been raised was down 
again. More than one face assumed a thought- 
ful look. 

“We know that the rows of kernels on an 
ear of corn are always even,” Sharley pursued. 
“ Some of you hunted a week, you know, to find 
one with an odd row. Tommy Stone was to 


98 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


tell us this morning all he could learn about 
spiders. Now, Tommy.'' 

Tommy, quite as ready as his auditors, rose 
and delivered the following : — 

“ In some tropical countries the spiders are 
so big that they catch birds, very little ones, as 
well as flies and things. Some spiders have six 
eyes, some have two, but most all spiders have 
more 'n two. They put their eggs in a cocoon, 
and sometimes almost two thousand eggs have 
been found in just one of them. Sometimes 
spiders fight and tear off each others' limbs. 
Spiders' webs are very nice for making the 
blood stop when you 've cut your finger or any- 
thing." 

“Just think, children," Sharley said, as he 
concluded, “ what a wonderful piece of work a 
spider's web is, and how patiently he repairs it 
when the wind breaks it or some one brushes it 
aside. It takes us only a second to destroy 
what the spider has labored over for hours ; 
and I suppose he feels discouraged when he 
sees it, — as we should if some one rubbed out 
a whole slate full of sums we had spent half 
a day over." 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


99 


Sharley, as she talked, took up the little Bible 
which lay upon the desk, and slowly turned over 
the leaves, beginning to read at the middle of 
the 104th Psalm. 

“ The trees of the Lord are full of sap ; the 
cedars of Lebanon which he hath planted ; 

Where the birds make their nests : as for 
the stork, the fir-trees are her house.*' 

She read only a few verses, a fact which 
caused her hearers to wish, when she ended, 
that she would keep on through just a few 
more. 

This exercise over, the regular work of the 
day began by the reading lesson of the first 
class, composed of the most advanced pupils in 
the school. A few of them were almost as old 
and quite as large as their teacher. To Agnes's 
surprise, Sharley gave a newspaper to a very tall 
-girl at the head of the class, indicating the arti- 
cle she was desired to read. It was a report of 
a trip up the Hudson River made by children 
selected as recipients of that noble charity, 
‘‘The Fresh Air Fund." The paper was passed 
down the class, each reading a paragraph or a 
portion of one, until the article was finished. 


lOO 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


Sharley asked a few questions concerning the 
location, length, and general characteristics of 
the Hudson, then improvised a spelling-lesson 
from the words they had just read. A few sen- 
tences were copied upon the blackboard and 
used as illustrations of certain points in gram- 
mar and rhetoric. These various matters dis- 
posed of, some of the class were required, while 
others were reciting, to write out an abstract 
of the reading-lesson, the exercise serving for 
the weekly composition. 

Sharley showed a vast amount of ingenuity 
and originality in all the different topics which 
were supposed to form the absorbing interests 
of the district school. Even the matter-of-fact 
multiplication table became less prosaic, though 
quite as profitable, when its concise statements 
were given in the form of a mathematical match, 
each pupil anxious to keep his side standing as 
long as possible, and his interest increasing in 
proportion to the difficulty of the questions. 
Geography and history were made into regular 
games, quite as interesting as that of Authors,'' 
and conducted somewhat in the same way. For 
the first time m her life Agnes found herself 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


lOI 


realizing that Columbus was as tangible a per- 
son once as Queen Victoria, and the great trees 
of California as real as the stone walls of Dux- 
berry. 

But what surprised her most of all was the 
fact that there seemed so little need of discipline 
of any sort. The most mischievous boys — 
those from whom she expected, judging from 
their faces and general appearance, open riot 
and rebellion — sat with mouth, at well as eyes, 
wide open, as if they absorbed instruction 
through the same channel as they did their food. 
Bob Gridley squirmed and wriggled over his 
slate, with his tongue alternately thrust into his 
cheek and between his teeth as if the most fas- 
cinating object in the universe was the copy 
before him, impressing upon his youthful mind 
the great truth, ‘‘ An island is a body of land 
surrounded by water.” It was a significant fact 
that his teacher had made sure of his under- 
standing the long word of three syllables before 
she set him to copy it. 

Only one pupil seemed to be out of sorts, and 
indisposed to avail himself of his educational 
privileges. He was an awkward, shambling fel- 


102 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


low about fourteen years old, with a sinister face 
and shock head of black hair. More than once 
Agnes detected him in sly manoeuvres, flipping 
beans across the school-house, rubbing out the 
work upon the slates of his neighbors, and dis- 
concerting the little boys and girls by hideous 
faces made at them whenever they looked — as 
by some fatal fascination they often did — in his 
direction. It was plain that Sharley also saw all 
that was going on, though she merely protected 
his victims by changing their seats and the like, 
saying nothing to the defiant aggressor. 

When school was dismissed, and the pupils, 
growing again as noisy and frolicsome as be- 
fore the session opened, rushed off in different 
directions, Agnes felt as if she had passed 
through a very novel experience, as well as an 
interesting and exciting one. 

I had no idea things went on in this way ! '' 
was her first exclamation to Sharley when they 
were left alone. 

The young teacher looked very tired. Her 
face was flushed. She pushed her hair back 
from her temples and leaned her head on her 
hands, her elbows on the desk. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


103 


What sort of an idea did you have ? ” she 
asked Agnes, smiling at the eager expression on 
her friend's face. It had seldom looked so ani- 
mated during her stay in Duxberry. 

“ Well, in the first place, I supposed you had 
all you could possibly do to keep these young- 
sters in any sort of order. Then you have such 
a queer way of teaching — you seem to think a 
blackboard and a piece of chalk of a good deal 
more consequence than their school-books. And 
who ever heard of a newspaper for a reading 
lesson ! 

Sharley’s smile broadened. 

‘‘What else, Agnes.?" she asked. “You 
know I ’m a novice in this business, and I was n’t 
in school as long as you were. Criticisms are 
in order, and if you see any way in which — ’’ 

*‘ Oh, it isn’t that ! ’’ Agnes exclaimed quickly, 
anxious not to be misunderstood. “ I think your 
way is just perfectly splendid, only it ’s so dif- 
ferent from what I expected to see. Half the 
time it did n’t seem one bit like a school. Why 
didn’t you read the Bible the first thing this 
morning instead of beginning with that talk 
about spiders .? ’’ 


104 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


Sharley waited a moment before she spoke. 
She seemed to be thinking of many things. 

I believe/’ she said slowly at last, in letting 
the children feel as free as possible before and 
after school. They made a tremendous noise 
this morning, but, because I did not restrain it 
in the least, were all the more ready to quiet 
down when the bell rang. But somehow it never 
seemed to me quite consistent to expect them to 
give instant attention to any sacred subject just 
after all that uproar.” 

And so you arranged a sort of inclined plane 
for them } ” laughed Agnes, as Sharley paused a 
moment. 

'‘A step-ladder is a better expression,” Shar- 
ley responded. ‘‘ I ’m very fond of natural his- 
tory, but I know nothing whatever about it. 
Some of my scholars know more than I do. 
Now, my question this morning, about the rows 
in spiders’ webs — it may have been the veriest 
nonsense as far as I know, but I hope it was n’t. 
I must find out right away. I try to interest 
them in the common and simple things they see 
all about them, and I certainly learn by teach- 
ing. Every morning for some time we ’ve been 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


lOS 

talking about birds ; • we ’ve nearly exhausted 
spiders, and next are to find out all we can about 
bees. I Ve a few books of reference, and the 
school selects one pupil each day to read up on 
the subject and report to us, as Tommy Stone 
did this morning.’’ 

Agnes was profoundly interested, but she had 
not forgotten her original question. So the 
reason why you begin with that instead of — ” 

‘‘ Exactly ! Once the hardest part of my day 
— I mean one of the hardest parts — was the 
reading from the Bible in opening the school. 
One of the committee told me I had better read 
it through in order, and I began at the beginning. 
But there was n’t an individual among them who 
had the slightest interest in what I read. Nearly 
every one of them was in some sort of disorder. 
I ’ve had to stop sometimes at almost every 
verse before I could get through a chapter,” and 
Sharley made a wry face at the recollection. 

They were quiet enough this morning.” 

‘‘ Yes. And I long ago gave up reading tables 
of genealogy to a lot of wide-awake, active chil- 
dren. Now I select the parts that will interest 
them, and a little talk about God’s work and 


lo6 DUXBERRY DOINGS. 

love and care, as displayed in birds’ nests and 
honeycomb, — well, you see, it makes them a 
great deal more ready and interested to hear 
what the Bible has to say about the same 
things.” 

‘‘ Sure enough ! ” Agnes said deliberately, 
drawing a long breath. But how do you man- 
age to make them like their work } Most school 
children seem to hate it. I ’m sure I always 
did.” 

"‘You enjoyed embroidering those violets 
on white satin the other day for a wedding 
present } ” was Sharley’s apparently irrelevant 
reply. 

“Yes.” 

“Why.?” 

“ Why .? What a question ! I ’m fond of em- 
broidery anyway, and Bell Duncan is one of my 
special friends. I know the cushion will please 
her, and — but I’m sure I don’t see what the 
cushion has to do with my question, Sharley.” 

“ Only because it illustrates a principle, — the 
same one, you see. Bob Gridley is as much in- 
terested in shaping his letters to look like his 
copy, as you are in working the flowers to look 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


107 


like your pattern ; and he's anxious to please me. 
It 's a difference in taste, to be sure, but the 
principle is there just the same, is n't it ? " 

Agnes did not seem quite ready to answer. 

“Think of all the questions little children 
ask, all the time, too. Why do they } There 
must be a natural reason for it. I suppose it 's 
the natural desire for knowledge ; some might 
call it curiosity, but even curiosity is not an 
objectionable thing, so far as I can see, when it 
is properly exercised. If there were no curiosity 
in the world, there would be no knowledge, I 
suppose. Somebody must have felt a great deal 
of curiosity about the starry heavens, or he 
never would have tried to make a telescope." 

Sharley was growing excited. She sat erect, 
and though her cheeks were still flushed, the 
tired look had left her face, and her eyes shone. 

“You see, Agnes, it's just like talking my 
thoughts out loud to say these things to you," 
she pursued, encouraged by the absorbed look 
in Agnes's face, “ and I 've thought about so 
many things since I began to teach. I talk a 
good deal with Winnie and a good deal more 
with Lon Morse. Loji is very practical, more 


io8 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


so than Winnie. I take her philosophy and 
theories to Lon, and he tells me how to put 
them in practice.” 

‘‘And you have no ideas of your own } ” 

“ Oh, I did n’t say that exactly. I have one 
idea that I try to work out in a hundred differ- 
ent ways, — that is, to keep the scholars inter- 
ested in what they do. The moment they cease 
to be interested, — well, that is the end of every- 
thing. Look out then for spit-balls and beans, 
laughing, whispering, and everything else that 
misdirected energy and ingenuity can lead en- 
terprising young folks to invent,” and Sharley 
sighed as if she had learned by experience the 
force of the truth she was proclaiming. 

“ Who was that ugly-looking boy — the one 
who — ” 

“ You mean Fixy Dullwedge. He is — ” 

“ What ! ” exclaimed Agnes, struck by the 
extraordinary name. 

Sharley laughed as she repeated it. 

“One is seldom named so appropriately, at 
any rate,” she said. “He belongs to a French 
family. Fixy is supposed to be a substitute for 
Felix, but the surname has been corrupted from 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


109 


nobody knows what. The trouble with that 
boy is that I have not yet been able to discover 
what he cares about, if he cares about any- 
thing.” 

Do you never punish him for his antics in 
any way } ” 

‘‘ Oh, I Ve tried various devices. Really you 
can’t imagine what a trial he is to me. I Ve 
got about discouraged with him. I did try at 
first various kinds of punishments, but none of 
them reached the case. What I most want to 
do is to make him see how he is hurting him- 
self by his idleness and mischief.” 

“Well, I wish you success in your undertak- 
ing,” Agnes remarked, in a tone which said as 
plainly as any words could have done how hope- 
less she considered it. 

“And about the newspaper,” Sharley said, 
with sudden thought, “ does n’t it seem reason- 
able that we would all be more interested in 
what was read to-day than in something — ” 

“Why, of course,” Agnes interrupted heart- 
ily. “ It was the most fascinating reading les- 
son I ever heard. I found myself holding my 
breath while I was listening to the account of 


no 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


those poor little children, and I judged from 
their appearance that a good many of the 
scholars did the same thing. What made you 
think of that plan in the first place, Shari ey ? 

‘‘Why, because I found that I must keep 
them interested, as I said, and — this I had 
to find out by experience — children cannot 
be interested in theories and abstractions or 
dead letters. Something awake and vital and 
human — that’s what they want, and must 
have, if they get anything worth having. I 
imagine you would have smiled, Agnes, if you 
could have seen me when I began to teach 
geography. I found out soon enough that 
words mean very little to children, though they 
can learn them readily enough. I had to resort 
to my ingenuity. I made mud pies, or at any 
rate the process was very similar, and manufac- 
tured islands, capes, and peninsulas, as you 
would biscuits for tea. I fixed up some moun- 
tains and cut some very respectable chan- 
nels for rivers. The bays and gulfs made 
themselves, and all these different geographical 
divisions clustered around the side of a big 
washtub.” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


III 


Sharley stopped long enough to laugh heart- 
il}'- at the remembrance of this unique object 
lesson. Agnes made a gesture for her to hurry 
on. She was greatly interested. 

could n’t manage volcanoes, of course, and 
deserts bothered me more than they were 
worth. I don’t believe I could have been satis- 
fied with a desert anyhow, if I could n’t have 
had an oasis, a palm-tree, and a camel or two. 
Well, after I had fixed those definitions in their 
heads, I began by filling up the rivers, which 
naturally ran into the gulfs and bays, and 
thereby made a very decent ocean. Don’t you 
see ? ” 

Agnes saw, or at least she indicated as much 
by a nod of the head. 

I should never have thought of such a 
thing as that,” she said, ^‘if I’d lived five hun- 
dred years. I always supposed that a teacher 
had nothing to do but keep children from rais- 
ing the roof while she heard them recite their 
lessons.” 

Reciting lessons is a very different affair 
from learning them,” Sharley replied, ‘‘and how 
can they learn unless they are taught } That is 


II2 


DUXBERRY DOINGS 


the work of a teacher, it seems to me. Books 
cannot do it wholly, though some teachers seem 
to think so.^’ 

“But I should suppose you’d have to lie 
awake nights, Sharley, to invent all your ways 
and means, and with such a conglomeration of 
a school, too ! ” 

“Yes, I admit that it does take an immense 
amount of calculation, and it is work, there ’s 
no denying that. Sometimes I get so tired and 
so discouraged I don’t know what to do.” 

She spread out a quantity of copy-books as 
she spoke. 

“ I guess you have had enough of school for 
one day, Agnes. You need n’t wait for me. I 
shall not go home for an hour yet. I ’ve got to 
set copies in all these for to-morrow.” 

Agnes could have helped her, and thereby 
reduced the time one half, if she had only hap- 
pened to think of it, which she did not. 

“And you make all those up out of your 
head, as the children say } ” Agnes asked. 

“ That is not very difficult. I try to keep in 
mind the particular fact or definition which 
particularly troubles some particular pupil, and 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


I13 

write it down for him to copy several dozen 
times. He generally learns it before he finishes 
the page.^* 

« 

Agnes made a comical grimace as she took 
up her hat, preparing to leave the school-house. 

“There is no hope for any ignoramus who 
falls into your hands,'’ she observed. “ I mean 
no hope of his remaining one,” and, bidding 
Sharley good-by, she strolled leisurely down 
the road, on her way home. 


CHAPTER IX. 


MAN, whistling as he came, 
was walking along towards Agnes. She 
instantly recognized Jack Godfrey, who 
showed evident pleasure on meeting her. 

‘‘ Have you been to the school-house ? ” he 
asked. Where is Sharley ? 

‘‘ I ’ve been spending the day with her. It 
has been an interesting one, I assure you. But 
she is not through her work yet. She 's setting 
copies of geographical and historical statements, 
to be impressed upon the youthful minds of the 
children under her charge. When I left she 
was writing out a definition of a triangle, or 
something of that sort.^' 

Is that geographical or historical ? '' the 
young man asked with a laugh. 

I ought to have included the mathematical, 
grammatical, and rhetorical, I suppose/^ Agnes 
said, laughing also. 

Jack Godfrey was evidently hesitating. He 
1 14 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


II5 

glanced towards the school-house as he talked, 
then in the direction which Agnes was taking. 

‘‘ With your permission, Miss Haliburton, I 
will walk home with you.'’ 

‘‘ But I thought that you were going to — " 

“ I had a little leisure, and was walking with- 
out any special object. Now I have found one, 
if you will allow me to follow it." 

Agnes, evidently, had no objection. She had 
been attracted to Jack Godfrey when she first 
met him. She had asked Winnie a good many 
questions about him, and wondered that her 
cousin had so little to say in his favor. Not 
that she said anything against the young man, 
— that was not Winnie's way, — but from her 
very silence on the subject Agnes inferred that 
she could have said a great deal about him had 
she been so disposed. Winnie must certainly 
be prejudiced against him, she thought. He 
was very fine looking, and his manners were 
most agreeable. 

^‘Do you feel now a great deal wiser than 
you did this morning } " he inquired, as they 
strolled along together. 

I ought to," she an,swered. Anyone who 


Il6 DUXBERRV DOINGS. 

could stay all day in Sharley's schoolroom and 
not acquire some information about something 
must be very dull indeed. I certainly did not 
expect to find half so much entertainment, 
either, when I decided to go.'' 

I fancy you went because you were in 
despair at finding anything more interesting. 
Duxberry must be very dull indeed, for you. 
Miss Haliburton." 

“ Why do you think so, Mr. Godfrey } " she 
asked, with a quick glance of appreciation as he 
made the remark. 

‘‘ Oh, because everything here, people in- 
cluded, must be so very different from what 
you have been used to. I 'm getting fearfully 
tired of Duxberry myself. It 's no place for 
a fellow who has any ambition. I want to 
get to the city. I suppose there 's no end of 
chances in New York for young men.'^" 

Oh, I suppose so," Agnes answered readily. 
‘‘ I don't know much about business myself, 
but of course there must be plenty of oppor- 
tunities in such a city as that." 

‘‘ I 've been there only once. I went down 
on an excursion train four summers ago. One 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


I17 

of our Duxberry boys got into a situation there 
and promised to see what he could do for me, 
but he went out west somewhere, all of a 
sudden, and that was the last of it. You 
know I ’m book-keeper in Hall's store 1 " 

Yes, Agnes knew. She had heard so, she 
remembered, though her acquaintance with 
Hall's store was limited to an outside view of 
it, — a large, dingy, white building, one window 
displaying dry and fancy goods of various de- 
scriptions ; the other filled with a miscellaneous 
collection of articles, including carpets, boots 
and shoes, boxes of soap, and frying-pans. 

‘‘ We did a tremendous business before the 
mills went up," Jack Godfrey remarked, as if 
the mills had been suddenly elevated to a 
higher sphere of usefulness. ‘‘ There was 
some life in Duxberry in those days, some- 
thing going on all the time, no end of doings. 
Now — " He made a very expressive gesture 
which did not need the help of any words to 
close his sentence intelligibly. 

“ My father is full of all sorts of business," 
Agnes remarked after a moment's thought. 
He might know of something that would 


1 1 8 DUXBERR Y DOINGS. 

suit you. He is very fond of helping people, 
and no doubt he would be glad to do any- 
thing for you that he could.’' 

O Miss Haliburton ! That is greater 
good fortune than I — I , should not have 
dared to ask so much ; but I assure you I 
shall appreciate the kindness if you choose to 
do it.” 

The Slocum buggy came rumbling down 
the road. Mrs. Amanda had her spectacles 
on this time. She had suspected who the 
young persons might be, strolling so leisurely 
along, and profoundly hoped that she was 
not mistaken — as she was not. 

‘‘ I declare, ’Mandy,” the elder lady remarked, 
looking as closely at the couple in her turn, 
‘‘ef there ain’t that Haliburton girl and Jack 
Godfrey agin ! Sech dewin’s ! ” 

Neither of them bowed to Agnes as they 
passed her, though she acknowledged her ac- 
quaintance with them by a nod of the head 
proportionately as slight as the acquaintance 
itself. Jack seemed oblivious even of the pass- 
ing of the ancient vehicle. 

It rumbled on half a mile further, till it 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


1 19 

reached Mrs. Bond’s house. There the ladies 
alighted and hitched the horse, having sud- 
denly decided that as they ‘^were goin’ so near 
Sairy Jane’s they might as well see about that 
’ere cheese-press now as any time.” 

But cheese-presses did not form the imme- 
diate topic of conversation. 

‘‘How did Mary Ann like that Haliburton 
girl } ” Mrs. Slocum inquired. “ I heerd she 
and Annie had called on her. Has she ever 
been here.^” 

Mrs. Bond shook her head. 

“ Humph ! That ’s about what I s’posed. 
She’s too stuck up for anything. Did you 
know how she and Jack Godfrey was a-goin’ 
on } ” 

Mrs. Bond looked interested, as no doubt her 
daughters, Mary Ann and Annie, would also 
have done, had they been present. 

“ There ’s been a good deal of talk, I know, 
about that young lady, but land ! I never mind 
all I hear. It ’s just talk, the most of it, I 
have n’t any doubt.” 

Having thus administered an indirect moral 
rebuke, Mrs. Bond felt conscientious and com- 
fortable. 


120 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


‘‘What do they say about her and Jack 
Godfrey ? ” she inquired. 

“ Nobody don't need to say much," Amanda 
Slocum answered, with a significant pressure of 
her lips. “ Ef you 'd 'a' seen all we have — " 
She shook her head as if a recital of. the atro- 
cities she had witnessed was altogether beyond 
her power. 

“ She 's jest a gallivantin' round with him 
half the time," Mrs. Slocum added. “'Mandy 
an’ I we ’ve seen ’em time an’ time agin. John 
Haliburton was a-goin’ to take his daughter 
away with him to Niagary or some high-falutin 
place or ’nother. But he ’s been and gone, an’ 
she ’s up to Elnathan Maynard’s yit. Angeline 
she don’t make no explanations, says her 
father ’s got more business somewhere, an’ 
she ’s got to wait for him. I tell ’Mandy there ’s 
some mystery about it, sure ’s you ’re born ! ’’ 

“ Agnes Haliburton, she looked contented 
enough, anyway," Amanda remarked. “ We 
jest passed her on the road with Jack. She’d 
gone out to meet him, I s’pose." 

“Mary Ann says Miss Haliburton wears 
splendid clothes," Mrs. Bond remarked. “ The 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


I2I 


day the girls called there she had on a lilac 
muslin — trimmed — land! I couldn’t begin 
to tell what they said about the trimming ! 

“ I guess ’t would bother any one in Duxberry 
to describe her clothes/’ Mrs. Slocum said, with 
a shrug of her shoulders. “ I ’d jest like to 
find out how Angeline Bascom feels when she 
sees her a spreadin’ roun’ in all that style. 
Whose money helped pay for it I ’d like to 
know! But Angeline she’s jest that close- 
mouthed when she chooses to be, you can’t 
git nothin’ out of her. She jest stood up for 
that girl the other day when we called there — 
yes, an’ she ’d a-seen her goin’ on with Jack 
Godfrey right before her face and eyes that very 
afternoon.” 

Oh, perhaps the girl don't mean any harm,” 
Mrs. Bond observed, feeling conscientious again. 

Does Sharley know about it 'I ” she inquired 
with the usual consistency of curious human 
nature, recognizing, while indulging, its own 
weakness. 

The subject was a prolific one, and a vast 
deal of information was imparted and acquired 
before the ladies separated, Mrs. Bond sharply 


122 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


criticising certain forms of gossip and mischief- 
making prevalent in the village, in which disap- 
proval she was warmly indorsed by the Slocums. 

Jack and Agnes were in no way troubled by 
any observation which might be made upon 
them, though the former had long before learned 
by experience the inevitable result of any Dux- 
berry doings coming under the sharp eyes of 
the Slocums. They met Lon Morse a few min- 
utes later. Jack greeted him with great hearti- 
ness. Agnes bowed in a very distant manner 
as they passed him. 

He 's a splendid fellow ! '' Jack said enthu- 
siastically, when Lon Morse was beyond hear- 
ing. ‘‘ He ’s the smartest one, too, there is in 
Duxberry — there’s no doubt of that.” 

‘‘You and Sharley seem to agree perfectly on 
the subject of Mr. Morse,” Agnes replied, with 
a slight laugh. 

“Don’t you like him.?” Jack asked quickly, 
“ or don’t you know him .? I don’t suppose you 
do,” he concluded, answering his own ques- 
tion. 

“No, I don’t know him. I’ve only heard 
Sharley talk about him a good deal. He ’s not 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


123 


my style, exactly,’' and she appeared to drop 
the subject as one not worth talking about. 

Dr. Davidge was sitting with Winnie by the 
window as the two came into sight a little way 
down the road. 

‘‘Your cousin is a remarkably fine-looking 
girl. Miss Winnie. She dresses, too, in ex- 
quisite taste.” 

Winnie smiled with satisfaction as she heard 
the words. Agnes was not as generally appre- 
ciated as she wanted her to be. She was glad 
that Dr. Davidge admired her. 

But the expression of his face was not one of 
admiration. There was a positive scowl upon 
it, and he ended his visit before Agnes came 
into the room. 

“ I Ve had a real enjoyable day, Winnie,” she 
said to her cousin with great animation. “ I 
suppose you know all about Sharley’s way of 
doing things, but it was very novel and refresh- 
ing to me.” 

Her manner and the interesting style in which 
she related the incidents of the day proved the 
sincerity of her words. Winnie was highly en- 
tertained. 


124 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


‘‘Sharley is certainly born for a teacher,” 
Agnes remarked in concluding. 

But she has chosen another life for herself 
already,” Winnie said very quietly. 

^‘What, Shari ey ! ” Agnes exclaimed. 
‘^Sharley has been engaged to Jack Godfrey, 
Agnes, for more than six months.” 


CHAPTER X. 


HE three weeks which Mr. Haliburton 
had mentioned as the longest additional 
time which his daughter must spend in 
Duxberry had just come to a close. Mr. May- 
nard was reminded of the fact by a long letter 
from him. 

‘‘ Things are going from bad to worse with 
me,” he wrote, evidently in one of his rarely 
despondent moods. “ I am worried and ham- 
pered on every side. Even a hundred dollars 
just now would work miracles for me. If you 
can spare me fifty, or even twenty-five, it would 
be a greater lift than you can imagine. Of 
course I shall add it to the sum total, and if I 
can only bridge over this hard spot, I have not 
a doubt that in a year at least I can square up 
the most of my affairs, and your claims shall be. 
settled first of all. Angeline Bascom must cer- 
tainly come in as number two. 

“ I have written to Agnes that I cannot come 

125 



126 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


for her at present, and cannot afford to pay any 
hotel bills this summer. You have no idea how 
I hate to disappoint the child. I wish you 
would talk over this matter with her, or else 
talk with Winnie and ask her to do it. Agnes 
is seventeen years old now. She will not re- 
turn to school this fall, and I confess I don’t 
exactly know my duty to her. I begin to sus- 
pect — I had my first revelation of it in my last 
talk with her — that she has some very imprac- 
ticable notions of life ; not that they would be 
so if I could be sure of always carrying out my 
schemes, but lately I must confess I ’ve won- 
dered somewhat how she would get along if she 
could n’t depend upon me. I suppose I have 
only myself to blame for the way in which she 
has been brought up, but I have tried to do my 
best. If her mother could have lived — but 
what a vain regret ! ” 

There was a good deal more in the letter ; 
explanations — which explained nothing to Mr. 
Maynard — of the fluctuations of the money- 
market ; his desire to invest in ‘‘ Omaha com- 
mon ; ” the break in the Hannibal and St. 
Joseph ; ” and the fact that Oregon and Tran.s- 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


127 


continental ” was at one and one-eighth the day- 
before. Apparently the writer's spirits had 
risen as he wrote, for he closed the letter in his 
old hopeful mood ; but Elnathan Maynard, 
holding it in his hand a long time after he had 
finished reading it, fell into a profound, and 
apparently not a very pleasant, reverie. 

‘‘Agnes Haliburton is making a salt-water 
fountain of herself," Miss Bascom remarked, 
bustling into the kitchen where Mr. Maynard 
sat. “ I s'pose any one who could see a hole 
through a ladder would know what ’s the matter 
— well, I declare, Nathan, you look as if you 'd 
got your death warrant," and she glanced at 
the letter in his hand. “John Haliburton 
has n’t got money enough yet to retire from 
business, and wants you to lend him a little 
more. Is that it ? " 

Elnathan Maynard half smiled — or tried to 
do so. 

“ I suppose Agnes is greatly disappointed," 
he said quietly. “ John is in trouble again — it ’s 
the same old story." 

“ ’T won’t hurt him to in, that ’s my opin- 
ion. He generally gets out within twenty-four 


128 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


hours by dragging somebody else in, — a pretty 
poor way, according to my notion, of getting 
along in the world. I 'm going over to the 
deacon’s. He ’s got one of his poor spells 
again.” 

Agnes Haliburton’s occupation that forenoon 
had been correctly stated. Her father’s letter 
was literally soaked with her tears, as she laid 
her head down on the table and gave way 
to her anger and disappointment. This was the 
second blow, and, unlike the first, it was not soft- 
ened by any promise of future recompense. 

Another letter lay near by, one from Sara- 
toga, written by Bell Duncan. “ It ’s the gayest 
summer we ’ve had yet,” the young lady wrote. 
‘‘You would enjoy every hour of it. Arthur 
Cosgrove came yesterday, and I find knows 
quite as well as we do on what day to expect 
you. I was a little surprised at first, though I 
need n’t have been, considering his devotion 
last year and your good taste at all times.” 

Winnie Maynard knocked softly at the door 
of her cousin’s room. Though she had every 
day been gaining in strength, it was only the 
second time that she had gone so far without 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


129 


assistance. Miss Bascom had told her of 
Agnes's tribulation, and she was eager to be 
of service to her. 

Agnes did not hear the knock, she was sob- 
bing too violently. Winnie pressed her hand 
to her heart as she listened for an instant, then, 
pushing the door open, she went in. 

“ O Agnes, I 'm so sorry ! ” 

She knelt down by her, and put her arms 
about her. She was exhausted by the effort 
she had made in climbing the stairs. She 
w’as very pale, and her breath came in gasps. 
But Agnes had no thought for any one but her- 
self. 

I feel abused and imposed upon," she cried 
hotly. ‘‘And to think that my father should 
treat me so ! I would n’t have believed it ! " 

“ O Agnes ! " 

“It’s very easy for you to exclaim, ‘O Ag- 
nes,’ ’’ she went on. “ How do you suppose you 
would feel in my place — and you don’t know 
one half of my disappointment, either. I just 
wonder how you would feel, Winifred May- 
nard.’’ 

“ I should not feel as you do, Agnes,’’ Winnie 


130 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


said firmly. “ If your father were dead you 
could not show greater distress.'' 

Something in the words seemed to give Ag- 
nes a new idea, but she cried harder than ever, 
if that were possible. 

‘‘I don't suppose I should feel much worse," 
she said defiantly, between her tears. “ He 
writes that he may go to Europe again, and he 
can't take me with him, either. He wants to 
know if I could be contented to spend another 
year in school — studying French and music, or 
whatever I choose, until he knows more defi- 
nitely about his plans ! School ! The idea ! 
And he has n't sent me a single dollar since 
I 've been in Duxberry ! " 

Winnie, repelled by her cousin's manner, had 
released her and seated herself in a low rocking- 
chair near by. She was looking at her most 
sympathetically, but at the same time a little 
curiously. 

“ You have n't needed any money, have you } " 
she asked. 

I should n't have spent it here, if I had had 
it," Agnes answered. ‘‘ But it 's the first time 
I 've not had all I wanted, and it 's not very 
pleasant.” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


131 

“ If it 's the first time, I should n't think 
you 'd mind it so much,” Winnie remarked. ‘‘ If 
you had gone without it all your life, you might 
begin to complain now.” 

Agnes looked a little surprised herself. This 
upside-down sort of philosophy was not just 
what she had expected from Winnie. The force 
of her grief had spent itself. The brilliant 
complexion was streaked and mottled ; the deli- 
cate nose and curving red lips uncomfortably 
swollen. Agnes's present appearance would cer- 
tainly have created a sensation in the village, 
though of a different kind than usual. 

‘‘ I suppose, Winnie, you think I 'm perfectly 
horrid,” she said, evidently not unwilling to talk 
a little. “ You are so good, and so patient, and 
have so much to bear, and get along with so 
little, and — ” 

‘‘There! You've said enough,” Winnie 
interrupted. 

“But I never could endure it as you do, 
never ! I 'm sure I couldn’t.” 

“Agnes,” Winnie said, as her cousin grew 
quieter, “ I wish you would tell me your ideas 
of the world — of life, you know. Tell me 


132 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


what you most want, and most want to do with 
yourself. You know what I mean.’' 

suppose I know what you mean,” Ag- 
nes replied thoughtfully. ‘‘I want to go to 
Saratoga just now, more than anything else in 
the world. Bell Duncan — you know Bell Dun- 
can is my most intimate friend — has written 
me a long letter about the gay times they’re 
having there. It ’s her last summer, too, for 
after she ’s married she will live abroad, I sup- 
pose. She ’s engaged to an Englishman.” 

‘‘ But Saratoga only lasts a few weeks. After 
that .? ” 

“ Oh, I never care to think very far ahead. I 
was going into society this winter. Mrs. Dun- 
can offered to take charge of me, and she knows 
everybody and goes everywhere.” 

“ I suppose I have some idea of what society 
is,” Winnie said, ‘‘though of course it’s a 
very vague one. Is that all } ” 

“All what.?” 

“All you are going to do.? All the object 
you have in mind .? ” 

•‘ I declare, Winnie, sometimes you look and 
talk like a regular old woman ! ” 


DUX BERRY DOINGS, 


133 


“ I Ve no doubt I feel, even if I don't look, 
twenty years, at least, older than you do,” and 
Winnie laughed. “ You can answer me just 
as if I were an old woman.” 

Well, then, I don’t see why women need to 
have any object in life, that is, anything in par- 
ticular. All women marry, — at any rate most 
of them do, — and their husbands take care of 
them. Mrs. Duncan says there’s a great deal 
of nonsense talked nowadays about women’s 
work in the world.” 

‘‘Then you intend to marry, Agnes, and to have 
a husband to take care of you. Is that it ? ” 
“Yes,” Agnes answered, with another touch 
of her defiant air. “ I suppose you do too. All 
girls do.” 

Winnie did not immediately reply to this 
generalization. Agnes, meanwhile, folded up 
her letters and looked supremely miserable. 

“But you would not think that you could 
marry a poor man, Agnes ? ” 

“ Mercy ! I should hope not ! ” 

“ What is there in the world for the girls 
who must marry men without money or else 
not marry at all ? ” Winnie inquired. 


134 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


Oh, I 'm sure I don't know,'' Agnes said, 
with some impatience, as if the subject from 
that point was of no special interest and some- 
what perplexing also. ‘‘ Lots of girls have no 
ambition," she added a moment later, as if a 
new idea had suddenly occurred to her, and 
they 're brought up to cook and do housework ; 
and Madame Le Moyne, the French teacher at 
Creighton, always told us that she considered it 
a woman's duty to marry well, to keep in society 
where she could use her accomplishments, and 
in that way help to keep up society, and — I 
can't use her exact words, but that was her idea, 
anyway." 

Winnie looked at Agnes in profound aston- 
ishment. Really, this was worse than she had 
expected. That all girls had ideas, vague or 
definite, upon the subject of love and marriage, 
she fully recognized. That was a right and 
a natural thing. But the financial and social 
conditions upon which Agnes based the whole 
business ! 

‘‘Your idea of life, then," she said suddenly, 
out of a little reverie into which she had fallen, 
“ is to do nothing, and have good times ? " 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


135 


‘‘Certainly! Why not? There's no need 
for me to do anything, even if I knew how, and 
I suppose all of us like good times as often as 
we can get them." 

“But there is so much work to do in the 
world I " Winnie exclaimed excitedly. 

Agnes said nothing. Her face, however, ex- 
pressed plainly the sentiment that whoever 
chose to do it, might. She would not deny the 
general proposition, but she had no part nor lot 
in that matter. 

“ I suppose you have what you call an object 
in life ? " Agnes said to Winnie, with sudden 
animation. “ Tell me about yours. That 's 
only fair." 

Winnie looked up, startled out of a train 
of thought, and a good deal surprised by the 
question. 

“ My mother taught me," she said, in answer, 
“ that I must try to do all the good I could in 
the world." 

Agnes waited for her to go on, but she ap- 
peared to have nothing to add to the definition. 
“Well?" 

“ That 's all ! " and Winnie smiled as she 


136 D UXBERR Y DOINGS, 

shook her head. “It doesn’t seem to amount 
to much — to sound very great, or very bril- 
liant, or — ” 

“ It sounds exactly like a Sunday-school les- 
son,” Agnes commented. 

“ It was certainly a lesson, and for every day 
in the week;” and Winnie smiled again. “It 
covers, too, an enormous amount of ground, as 
I ’ve found out. It gives me all I want to do ; 
but I ’m willing to do it,” she added quickly, 
“if I could only have the strength.” 

“You mean that you’d be perfectly willing 
to live here all your life, and take care of your 
father and the children, and sew, and cook, and 
see to Tom Lawton, and visit the folks in Dux- 
berry — ” 

Agnes stopped short, perhaps at the expres- 
sion on Winnie’s face. 

“ But this is my home, you know, Agnes, and 
of course Duxberry folks seem very different to 
me from what they do to you.” 

“And would that content you always.^” Ag- 
nes pursued, more analytical than was custom- 
ary with her. “ I ’ll venture to say that you ’ve 
thought how it would seem to be married and 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


137 


live in a home of your own with some one who 
idolized you, have n’t you ? ” 

‘‘Yes,” Winnie answered, without any hesita- 
tion ; “ I used to think of it so much before my 
mother died. She and my father were devoted 
to each other — they were 'always just like lov- 
ers, so kind and thoughtful and considerate. 
Through all the hard places — sometimes the 
crops failed, or father lost money in other ways, 
and the children were sick pretty often, and my 
little brother Frank died of croup, — no matter 
what the trouble was, they always worked to- 
gether, and seemed to think that nothing could 
be too hard to bear as long as they had each 
other. I did n’t wonder that my mother could 
do so much, and kept cheerful under so many 
trials, when my father loved her so always. 
And when she died — my poor, poor father ! ” 
Agnes did not find this exposition particularly 
satisfactory, though there was some touch of 
romance in it, after all. Poverty, hard work, 
trials, — none of these things entered into her 
matrimonial calculations. 

“ Uncle Nathan does n’t look like an unhappy 
man,” she said. 


1 38 DUXBERR Y DOINGS, 

‘‘Unhappy — no. I don’t think he is un- 
happy, not in the way you mean. He feels that 
my mother has gone on ahead, — ‘into the 
kingdom, the power, and the glory,’ as one of 
our neighbors expressed it. He misses her 
every hour of his life, and he wants her — oh, 
how we want her ! But she has only gone out 
of the physical into the spiritual life, and she 
can’t be very far away from us — she and little 
Frankie. Father believes — as mother did, 
too — that it is actually sinful for any one to be 
miserable over things that can’t. be helped; to 
mourn over troubles until you make other folks 
miserable, especially when there’s always so 
much to be grateful for.” 

“ And I suppose you ’ve been taught that, 
too .? ” 

“ I ’m thankful that I have. I ’m only sorry 
that I can’t make better use of the teaching. I 
just despair of getting to the place where I can 
feel all the time as father does. When I say so 
to him he only smiles, and tells me that it takes 
time. I should think it did. I ’m afraid it will 
take all eternity for me, too.” 

There was a puzzled look on Agnes’s face, as 


DUX BERRY DOINGS, 


139 


if Winnie had grown mysterious and hard to 
understand. 

‘‘ You had better come down stairs with me, 
Agnes. I 'm afraid if you stay up here by 
yourself — 

But Agnes had a letter to write, so Winnie 
left her alone. Before it was finished, she had 
closely covered eight pages, which were placed 
in an envelope addressed to Arthur A. Cos- 
grove, Grand Union Hotel, Saratoga, New 
York. To her father she did not write a word. 


CHAPTER XL 



R. JACK GODFREY, twenty-two years 
old, nearly six feet in height, of good 
figure, handsome though rather effemi- 
nate face, and wearing very good clothes every 
day in the week, was an exceedingly popular 
young man with certain of the Duxberry people. 
He told a great many funny stories, sang and 
played fairly, kept himself informed on the cur- 
rent topics of the day, and was really an agree- 
able and entertaining companion. He was a 
fine accountant. Ebenezer Hall, proprietor of 
the largest store in town, considered him invalu- 
able in the business, as he undoubtedly was ; 
but the amount of salary which he received was 
certainly out of proportion to his employer’s 
appreciation. 

He was greatly elated by his interview with 
Agnes Haliburton, ^nd her promise to secure 
her father’s interest in his behalf. He spoke of 
it to Sharley at the first opportunity, but was 
140 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


141 

rather piqued at the non-committal way in 
which she received the communication. 

‘‘ Don’t you think it will be a splendid thing 
for me — for us both, Sharley } ” 

‘‘ That depends,” Sharley answered. ‘‘ I don’t 
know anything that would trouble me more than 
to have you go into his line of business. Jack. 
If he could find a good position for you, — 
something sure, — why, that would be a dif- 
ferent thing.” 

‘‘ What do you call his line of business, Shar- 
ley } I thought he was a banker.” 

“That ’s what he calls himself.” 

“ But is n’t he } ” 

Sharley hesitated an instant. 

“ I really don’t know. We used to think he 
was a very rich and prosperous man. But we 
know now that he ’s borrowed money, right and 
left, to help him make more, to speculate with ; 
and the worst of it is, that he is not very partic- 
ular about paying it back.” 

Jack looked surprised. 

“ Who ’s he borrowed of ? Any one in Dux- 
berry } ” he asked abruptly. 

“ Yes, more than one. Father was so dazzled 


142 


DUX BERRY DOINGS, 


a few years ago by his promise of what he would 
do for him, provided he could have one or two 
thousand dollars for a basis, as he called it, that 
the farm was mortgaged, the money advanced, 
and — oh, dear ! I don't like to think of it. 
It’s made misery enough for all of us.” 

‘‘It ’s strange you never told me before.” 

“There was no necessity for telling anybody. 
Besides, everybody believes — in a way — in Mr. 
Haliburton. He does n’t mean to cheat any- 
body. He was just as sure that he could make 
father’s fortune — as sure as I am that I ’m tell- 
ing you about it, and he is always assuring him 
that every dollar will be paid in time with full 
interest. And he really believes it, too. No 
one can have the least doubt of that.” 

“ I wish you had some of Agnes Haliburton’s 
style, Sharley,” Jack said with a critical look at 
her after a moment’s silence. “Can’t you fix 
your hair as she does } ” 

“My hair!” Sharley laughed. “You know 
it never could be fixed any way, much less in 
the elaborate style of Agnes’s. I used to think 
you liked it. Jack, just because it was so curly 
and — ” 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


143 


“ So I do” he said impulsively, with a swift 
kiss on one of the shining waves. ‘‘ I thought 
it was the loveliest hair in the world — till I saw 
Agnes — Miss Haliburton. I was only just 
thinking it would be a little change if you could 
braid it as she does. I want you to look better 
than any one else in the world, Sharley, that ’s 
all.” 

“ Did you know that Tom Lawton was sick, 
Jack ? ” Sharley enquired with a sudden change 
of subject. 

‘‘ No, I had n’t heard of it. Are you on your 
way to see him ? ” he asked, suddenly illum- 
inated. 

Yes.” 

‘‘You’d make a first-class city missionary, 
Sharley. If I get into business in New York, 
and we live there — ” 

“ I ’ll find plenty of occupation, you think ? 
I ’ve no doubt of it.” 

“ Only I should want you all to myself, you 
know. You’d have occupation enough without 
ooking after outside heathens.” 

Jack left Sharley at the door of Mr. May- 
nard’s house. She made a shprt call on Win- 


144 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


nie, reporting to her the condition of things in 
the Lawton household. Tom had taken a sud- 
den cold, was threatened with pneumonia, was 
very hard to take care of, from pain and impa- 
tience, judging from young Tom’s report of the 
case, and Mrs. Lawton’s hands were more than 
full with him and all the children. It was plain 
that Winnie was distressed at her inability to 
be of any service. Agnes, who was in her 
cousin’s room at the time, appeared to be too 
much engrossed in her own thoughts even to 
follow the conversation between the two. 

‘‘ It is one of the mysteries of life,” Winnie 
said after Sharley had left them, ‘‘why such a 
woman as Mrs. Lawton should have so much 
trouble. She is one of the loveliest women in 
Duxberry. I ’ve always wanted you to see her, 
Agnes.” 

‘‘ But she ’s a drunkard’s wife,” Agnes com- 
mented calmly, “and 1 heard that Tom Lawton 
had been in jail once for stealing. I should 
think that was disgrace enough for one woman. 
The idea of associating with — ” 

“ Disgrace ! ” Winnie repeated. 

“Why, certainly. I don’t know what else 
you would call it, I ’m sure.” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


145 


‘‘Who took the trouble to tell you about 
Tom’s misfortune, Agnes ? ” 

“ Mr. Godfrey told me the other day.” 

“ Ah ! But please tell me in what way Mrs. 
Lawton is responsible.” 

“ Why, he ’s her husband, is n’t he ” 

“ But, Agnes, she never drank, nor stole any- 
thing. She ’s as good as she can be, and tries 
hard to bring up her children properly. How 
can she be to blame for what Tom has done, or 
for anything he does in the future } ” 

“ You ’re so queer, Winnie ! Logical is what 
you call it, I suppose. Of course I can’t ex- 
plain how she’s responsible, but you know just 
as well as I do, that when there ’s any such dis- 
graceful thing in a family everybody is con- 
sidered — considered disgraced,” she concluded, 
for want of another word. 

Winnie did not pursue the subject, though 
she looked as if she could, and would like to 
say a great deal more. Early the next forenoon 
Dr. Davidge drove up to the house. 

“ Are you particularly busy this morning, 
Miss Haliburton } ” 

It was quite a long sentence for him to ad- 


146 DUXBERRY DOINGS, 

dress to her. Generally their intercourse was 
limited to the merest “ Good morning/' or 
‘‘ Good afternoon," according to the time of the 
day in which they chanced to meet. Dr. Dav- 
idge, to the great discomfiture of Winnie, seemed 
to have taken a positive dislike to Agnes, while 
she, on her part, had not the least desire to in- 
crease her acquaintance with him. 

She hesitated a moment before answering the 
doctor’s question. A new novel had been sent 
her that morning. She had looked it over, and 
it promised to be interesting. She did not rel- 
ish the idea of giving it up to do any favor for 
Dr. Davidge, and she knew intuitively that he 
wanted some service from her for the Lawton 
family. 

Apparently he did not notice her hesitation, 
and he did not wait for an answer. 

Please be ready to go with me as soon as 
you can," he said. “ Lawton is worse this 
morning, — harder to take care of, I mean. His 
wife is quite distracted, poor thing ! and no 
wonder. Nobody in Duxberry has more leisure 
than you. Miss Haliburton, and you can hold 
the baby for her, at least, while she attends to 
Tom." 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


147 


Winnie looked at her pleadingly as she left 
the room to make the necessary preparations. 

^‘The Lord loveth a cheerful giver/’ Dr. 
Davidge quoted, with a little grimace and a 
smile at Winnie. Your cousin doesn’t feel 
particularly grateful to me for my interference, 
or particularly anxious to tend anybody’s babies. 
I hope you forgive me. Miss Winnie ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, I ’m so glad you asked her. Dr. Davidge. 
Agnes has very little idea of the comfort to be 
found in just such things. If she could only 
get interested in somebody outside of herself, I 
think she would be so much happier. Don’t 
you think I can go as far as Tom Lawton’s by 
next week or week after, doctor ? ” 

‘‘I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re getting 
on wonderfully, I know.” 

‘‘ Aunt Angeline is sure she must leave us by 
the end of this month. I want to be ready to 
take her place by that time.” 

“ We ’ll see, we ’ll see,” the doctor said 
shortly, and rose as Agnes entered the room. 
The old, stern look had come back to his face 
again. 

Agnes did not speak as the doctor handed her 


148 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


into the buggy, nor until they came in sight of 
the Lawtons’ house. 

‘‘ Is there anything else I can do for Mrs. 
Lawton ? ” she asked. 

‘‘No doubt, if you choose to do it. You can 
judge for yourself when you get there. I will 
call for you between four and five this after- 
noon.” 

Agnes gave a gasp. It was hardly ten 
o’clock. What a disagreeable man Dr. Davidge 
was in every way ! 

But Winnie had not exaggerated in her de- 
scription of Mrs. Lawton. Agnes could hardly 
believe her eyes, or her ears either, for that 
matter ; for, unless they deceived her, the lady 
had the sweetest voice she had ever heard in 
her life. 

That Miss Haliburton was very handsome, 
very stylish, and very proud, — “stuck up,” the 
villagers called it, — Mrs. Lawton had heard in 
a general way, which made no particular im- 
pression. The fact that she was Winnie May- 
nard’s cousin attracted her to the young girl at 
once. Agnes, in her turn, had not been in the 
house five minutes before she understood Win- 


DUX BERRY DOINGS, 


149 


nie's Admiration for Mrs. Lawton. She was 
surprised to see how pretty she was, and how 
refined and ladylike in the midst of her coarse 
surroundings. Agnes had looked for some- 
thing quite different. 

The baby might have been an angel, born in 
Paradise, so far as its appearance was concerned. 
Even its clothes were unobjectionable. Winnie 
at odd times had made every one of the little 
garments, else they might not have been so fine 
and dainty. There was very little purple and 
fine linen in Mrs. Lawton’s life. 

At noon Miss Bascom arrived, bringing an 
enormous basket, full of good things. 

I told Winnie ’t would be too bad for you to 
feel that you ’d got to get up a dinner because 
Agnes was staying with you, and I guessed you 
were too tired to cook much, any way. I felt 
just like it this forenoon, and Nathan was going 
to mill, so he could bring me along just as well 
as not.” 

Miss Bascom stopped to take breath after this 
somewhat confusing sentence. 

‘‘What do you think of the baby, Agnes.?” 
she asked abruptly. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


[JO 

“ Think of him ! That he ’s the sweetest 
little creature I ever got hold of/' and she held 
him still closer, kissing him over and over again. 
It was one of the angelic charms of the infant 
that he was afraid of nobody, and he had been 
drawn towards Agnes from the first of his ac- 
quaintance with her. She looked radiant as she 
bent over the little one. 

‘‘ Are you going home with me, Agnes } 
Your uncle Nathan will be back before long." 

‘‘Oh, no! Dr. Davidge is going to call for 
me this afternoon." 

Miss Bascom looked unutterable things. Her 
face seldom wore so satisfied an expression. 

“ Well, I Ve got a good many odd chores to 
do to-day," she said, rising. “You know I’m 
going back to Ellen’s before long, and there ’s 
lots of things to see to. If Bob Griddle could 
only be sewed up in a suit of hop-sack, and kept 
in it for the next six months, there ’d be less 
work for somebody to do." 

She was ready and waiting for Mr. Maynard 
by the time his wagon drove up to the door 
again. The baby had fallen asleep. Tom Law- 
ton had at last gone off in the same direction. 


DUXBERR V DOINGS. 1 5 1 

Nannie and one of her little brothers — Agnes 
could not remember the names of the children, 
there were so many of them — were amusing 
themselves with some paper dolls she had cut 
for them from brown wrapping-paper. Another 
girl, somewhat older than Nannie, was placidly 
arraying herself in Agnes’s hat and shawl, with- 
out remonstrance on the part of the owner. 
The tired mother sat down, at last, the first time 
that day, Agnes noticed, since she had entered 
the house. 

It was natural, and gratifying to both, that 
the conversation they could hold in the short 
domestic lull should find its subjects in Winnie 
Maynard and Sharley Kenyon. Agnes was glad 
to hear what Mrs. Lawton gladly told her of all 
that the young girls had done for her and her 
family. 

‘‘ I have very little fear for my husband now- 
a-days, thanks to them. If my boys grow to be 
good men, if my girls have any chance for 
themselves, it will be their work, all of it, and 
they know that I appreciate it.” 

There was no need for her to say so. Agnes 
looked at the delicate face, with its blue-veined 


152 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


temples, the sensitive mouth, and speculated a 
little as to what Mrs. Lawton’s life had been 
before her marriage. There was a curious pang 
at her heart as she watched her ; she could not 
easily have defined it. She was actually sorry 
when Dr. Davidge’s buggy appeared at the door. 

The gentleman might have been somewhat 
curious as to what the day had been to Agnes, 
but he gave no indication of the fact. She, on 
her part, volunteered no information. The after- 
noon ride was as silent as that of the forenoon 
had been. But Miss Bascom had some decided 
opinions of her own, which she freely expressed 
to Winnie. 

Tom Lawton’s isn’t Saratoga, not exactly, 
and Mrs. Lawton is n’t Bell Duncan, but she ’s 
Mrs. Lawton, and that ’s considerable. There ’s 
high-ways and by-ways and hedges and ditches 
in this world as well as cushioned rocking-chairs 
and hotel piazzas. I should n’t a bit wonder 
if that girl some time ” 

But through the partly open door Miss Bas- 
com caught sight of Bob Gridley and Kump. 
She never finished the sentence. Winnie com- 
pleted it for herself, and most satisfactorily. 


CHAPTER XIL 



'he train ran shrieking into the Duxberry 
depot. Its arrival was the great event 
of the day, for it brought the mail, not a 
very extensive one at any time, but sufficient to 
create considerable interest in the village. The 
post-office was only a few steps from the station. 
Generally both places were liberally filled with 
loafers ; idle men who tried to appear as if look- 
ing for something to do, and half-grown boys 
who made no such pretence. Jack Godfrey 
strolled down from the store occasionally when 
trade was* dull, as it usually was nowadays, 
and the farmers driving through the village 
in their heavy wagons generally delayed their 
trips a little if they found themselves in the 
vicinity of the railroad track. 

The usual group was assembled when, one 
day, in addition to the mail-bags and freight 
thrown out upon the platform, a young man 
stepped from the cars, and stood still for a 

153 


iS4 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


minute or two, looking about him. . A ‘^city 
fellow,” unmistakably. The fact was as evi- 
dent as if written over him from the crown of 
his soft felt hat to the soles of his patent- 
leather boots. He was in no way embarrassed 
by the curious eyes which rested on him ; con- 
scious, rather, of a certain superiority which 
made such scrutiny quite satisfactory and agree- 
able. 

‘‘ My ! But ain’t he a swell, though ! ” 

It was Fixy Dullwedge who made the remark. 
Fixy was not above playing truant, hooking 
Jack,” he termed it, when the fishing or nutting 
was particularly good. This time he was en 
route for a new woodchuck’s hole he had heard 
about the day before. 

Lon Morse, extricating a mowing-machine 
from the pile of freight just deposited, stood 
only a few feet off. The stranger approached 
him. 

‘‘ Are there any teams to hire here in Dux- 
berry.?” 

Lon Morse straightened himself, raising his 
hat courteously. He looked like a giant con- 
fronting a pigmy. 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


155 


‘‘ There 's a livery-stable farther up the street. 
Generally you can find one there.'' 

The gentleman seemed undecided. ‘‘ Up the 
street " was not very explicit, particularly as 
he could see nothing which looked like a street 
in any direction. Besides, it was remarkably 
muddy, and mud was his especial abhorrence. 

‘‘ How far is it to Mr. Elnathan Maynard’s ? " 
was his next question. 

“A little more than a mile." 

Lon Morse hesitated an instant, then spoke 
again. 

“ I'm going that v/ay myself in ten or fifteen 
minutes. I can take you along in my wagon 
if you 're willing to ride in that way. Or, 
better still,” he added on a second thought, 
“ r 11 take you up to the stable, if you 'd like 
to get a team." 

A team was certainly more desirable than the 
wagon, which looked like anything but a com- 
fortable conveyance ; yet 

‘‘ I 'll go with you, if you don't mind,” the 
stranger said. “ Speak to me when you 're 
ready, and be as quick as you can, please." 

Lon Morse looked at him with a queer expres- 


1 56 DUXBERR Y DOINGS. 

sion as ne turned around and sauntered into 
the waiting-room, lighting a cigar as he went. 
The loafers gradually dispersed, not, however, 
until they had learned the stranger’s destina- 
tion — informed by Fixy, who had listened 
with interest to the question addressed to Lon 
Morse — and made various random guesses as 
to his object in visiting Duxberry. 

Lon arranged a seat as comfortably as pos- 
sible for his passenger, to whom, according to 
orders, he spoke when the wagon was ready. 
If before the end of the trip he suspected the 
stranger’s reason for preferring that convey- 
ance, he gave no hint of the fact. But the 
gentleman’s numerous questions would have 
aroused the suspicions of a duller fellow than 
Lon Morse. 

‘‘And Miss Haliburton is considered very 
handsome, you say.?” 

Lon Morse made no reply. Perhaps he com- 
pressed his lips slightly. He was getting a 
little tired of this kind of catechism. 

“This is Mr. Maynard’s,” he said, an instant 
later, as he drove the wagon up to the door. 

Bob Gridley was on his way home from 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


157 


school — with protruding eyes fixed upon the 
gentleman. 

Here, Bob,’* Lon called out, ‘‘ run in and 
tell Miss Haliburton that ” 

‘‘Miss Harry Burton ain’t in. She’s been to 
school. She ’s coming along,” and Bob pointed 
with his thumb over his shoulder in his usual 
fashion to two figures crossing the field. 

“ Why — Arthur ! ” Agnes exclaimed, with 
the greatest surprise and pleasure, as she came 
near enough to recognize him. Her face 
flushed as she gave him both hands, and her 
eyes fell under his steady gaze. In an instant 
she recovered herself sufficiently to introduce 
Sharley Kenyon. She seemed to take for 
granted that Lon Morse was already acquainted 
with Arthur Cosgrove ; at any rate she did not 
introduce them. 

“Much obliged,” Mr. Cosgrove said a little 
shortly to him, at the same time handing him 
a piece of money, “ this will make it all right, 
I suppose } ” 

Lon Morse drew back with surprise. 

“ It is all right as it is, sir,” he said with 
a certain dignity. “ Will you go home with 
me, Sharley.?” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


158 

He lifted her into the seat Arthur Cosgrove 
had occupied, and the two drove away together. 
The two left behind seemed hardly conscious 
of their departure. 

had no idea that Agnes — ” Sharley began 
slowly, then stopped altogether. 

“The new mower has come, Sharley. It’s 
here in the wagon. See.-^” 

“ Sure enough ! I had n ’t noticed it. So that 
was the way you happened to — ” 

There she stopped again. Probably Lon was 
thinking of the mowing-machine. At any rate, 
they both seemed to be thinking of something 
which made their conversation a little forced, 
and consequently unnatural. 

“She — Miss Haliburton, has been to the 
school again ? ” he asked after a little pause. 

“Yes, and she’s seemed to enjoy her second 
visit better than the first one. I ’m so glad. I 
can’t flatter myself that she’d come if she could 
find anything more interesting, though. Yes- 
terday she got me to go with her, and return 
some calls. We went to Mrs. Hallock’s, Mrs. 
Hall’s, and Mrs. Bond’s. Think of that ! ” 
“And not Mrs. Slocum’s.'^” Lon laughed. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


i59 

Not Mrs. Slocum’s. Nothing would induce 
Agnes to go to Mrs Slocum’s, though we knew 
Amanda had gone visiting. Oh, Lon, Winnie 
has been spending the day at Mrs. Lawton’s ! 

I forgot to tell you.” 

“Well, really, that is quite an achievement 
for Winnie. By the way, Sharley, I saw Fixy 
Dullwedge hanging around the depot to-day.^ 
Vv^hy was n’t he in school } ” 

“ What a conundrum, Lon ! But you may be 
sure I missed him. So did Agnes. There ’s 
the doctor’s buggy now. He ’s been for Win- 
nie, I suppose.” 

“ Dr. Davidge is very fond of Winnie. I im- 
agine she ’s the only person in the world that he 
is fond of. He — do you know, Sharley, what 
he thinks of Miss Haliburton } ” 

“I don’t think he quite approves of Agnes, 
somehow, and she considers him too disagreea- 
ble for endurance.” 

“Why, what has he against her ? ” 

“ It might puzzle him to answer that ques- 
tion. Nothing in particular, I ’m quite sure. 
Only he said to me one day — one day when 
Agnes was dressed finer than usual and was ‘ 


i6o 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


gayer, too, than she generally is, ‘ It's such 
women as that who ruin the world for us,' and 
I must say his face looked almost demoniac. 
What do you suppose he meant, Lon } I Ve 
wondered about it a hundred times." 

It 's hard to tell what that man means by 
a good many things," Lon answered a little 
gruffly. ‘‘Jack is quite excited, Sharley, over 
a talk he’s had with — about Mr. Haliburton’s 
getting him business in the city." 

“Yes, he told me about it." 

“ And you did n’t encourage it," Lon ob- 
served, correctly interpreting the peculiar tone 
in Sharley’s voice. “ Well, I don’t wonder at 
that." 

The talk between them flagged again, and 
they reached home in an absorbed silence. 


CHAPTER XIII. 



DAVIDGE was driving slowly, possi- 
bly for the reason that it would tire 
Winnie less ; possibly for the sake of 
prolonging their interview. 

‘‘ Have you heard anything definite about 
uncle John’s business troubles.?” Winnie was 
asking with some anxiety. ‘‘You speak as 
though you had.” 

“ He has had some transactions with a friend 
of mine in the city who has lately begun to 
grow uneasy, having lost heavily, and who has 
evidently lost confidence as well as money, 
judging from his enquiries.” 

“ And that ’s a great deal worse than the 
other,” Winnie exclaimed impulsively. 

Dr. Davidge smiled slightly. 

“ Of course you would think so,” he said. 

“ Don’t you ? ” she asked. 

He did not immediately answer. 

“ As I have no confidence to lose, the finan- 

i6i 


1 62 DUXBERRY DOINGS. 

cial loss would certainly seem to me the greater, 
— if you can compare two things, one of which 
does n't exist." 

‘‘ But you are not speaking of my uncle John 
now." 

‘‘ No. Personally, I know nothing of him, 
except that he is a remarkably fine-looking 
man." 

‘^And he is such a generous, kind-hearted 
one, too. I 've felt sorry about his being 
troubled and perplexed so seriously in his 
business, but I — it would be hard for me to 
believe. Dr. Davidge, that he intended to wrong 
anybody. Nobody who is acquainted with him 
believes that." 

^‘Well, that certainly is in his favor, so far. 
It 's a good thing to be honest in intention, 
whatever the result may be. You can’t say that 
of all the mischief-makers in the world, financial 
or otherwise." 

‘‘ I hope, with all my heart, that Agnes will 
never hear any of the disagreeable things that 
are said about her father." 

‘‘Why, what can anyone say if — " 

“ Oh, I said those who were acquainted with 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


163 

him. Even they are very hard in their criti- 
cisms sometimes. They blame him for taking 
such risks, — risking other people's money, — 
and not seeming to care much, though that is 
only because he is so sure he can pay it all back. 
Those who don't know him, — only know about 
him, — I'm afraid they all think that he 's a 
swindler." 

“We judge by appearances in this world, — 
more 's the pity. I suppose the whole trouble 
with your uncle is that he is too hopeful, which, 
in some cases, is quite as bad as to be hopeless. 
Not so uncomfortable, of course, to the indivi- 
dual, but working a good deal more misery for 
his friends — especially if he borrows their 
money on the strength of it." 

“ Now, Dr. Davidge, you 're thinking of your- 
self as being so different from my uncle." 

“Well.?" 

“ Are you — hopeless .? " 

Winnie asked the question as if she might be 
taking too great a liberty, and regretted the 
words as soon as they were spoken. 

“And if I were.?" he responded readily 
enough. “ That is not the worst condition pos- 


164 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


sible. ‘ Those who have nothing left to hope, 
have nothing left to fear/ I 'll venture to say 
that you are not familiar with that quotation, 
Miss Winnie. It has not the spirit of your pet 
poems, yet I find comfort in it." 

I think I should rather fear a little, than to 
hope for nothing." 

‘‘ ^ If past bloom, past fading also,' " the doc- 
tor quoted. ‘‘ The same thought in different 
words, and certainly proving your favorite no- 
tion that there is compensation in all things." 

'^And there is really nothing in the world 
that you enjoy. Dr. Davidge } " 

‘^So little. Miss Winnie, that if I should 
define its exact limits you would not believe 
me." 

'‘You certainly find pleasure in books," Win- 
nie suggested. 

" I did — once. I read now, occasionally, 
when I get angrier than usual, or can't sleep, or 
for any other reason want to forget my own ex- 
istence. I have some favorite topics ready at 
hand to take up on such occasions. Perhaps 
you 'd be interested to know what they are 1 " 

" I certainly should." 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 1 65 

Compound fractures, yellow fever, blood- 
poisoning, and cancers. I revel in cancers.*’ 

Winnie laughed outright at his peculiar tone. 

‘‘You are very fond of poetry. You told me 
so once.” 

“ I was fond of it. Poetry was one of my 
passions. But to read poetry and live prose — 
such prose, too ! ” He shook his head slowly. 
“ I came across something the other day which 
seemed a sort of compromise, though. It was 
the prosiest sort of life put into poetry, one of 
Bayard Taylor’s, — ‘ John Reed’s Thoughts.’ 
They were not very different from that of many 
men,” and he recited with exquisite expression 
the long poem to which he had referred. Win- 
nie listened breathlessly, and tears came into her 
eyes from the pathos both in voice and words. 
“ Most of us know by experience,” he went on, — 

“ ‘The hankering after a life that you never have learned 
to know, 

The discontent with a life that is always thus and so. 

The wondering what we are and where we are going to 
go.”’ 

He glanced at Winnie as he spoke, rebuked 
by the sadness of her face. 

“ I ’ve taken unfair advantage of your willing- 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


1 66 

ness to listen to me/’ he said hastily. ‘^This is 
a better stanza : — 

‘ There nothing to do but take the days as they come 
and go, 

And not to worry with thoughts that nobody likes to 
show ; 

For people so seldom talk of the things they want to 
know.’ ” 

I don’t think it’s much improvement upon 
the other,” Winnie said. ‘‘There are more 
profitable thoughts than those which keep us 
‘wondering what we are, and where we are 
going to go.’ What we are, we cannot help, 
so far as our existence is concerned, and we 
need n’t be anxious about the afterwards if 
we try to do what is right here and now.” 

“ But you have such sublime faith,” he re- 
plied. “ Sometimes I find some comfort in 
this, — 

“ ‘ There lives more faith in honest doubt, 

Believe me, than in half the creeds.’ 

Tennyson said that.” 

“ And I can give you something better yet.” 
Winnie replied warmly ; “ one of my pet poems, 
as you call them. It is not based on any creed. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


167 

it does ’nt interfere with any, but I should be 
sorry for any human soul who could not accept 
it and believe it.” 

‘‘Let me have it by all means. Perhaps / 
can believe it ! ” 

Winnie repeated the lines very slowly : — 

“ In the bitter waves of woe, 

Beaten and tossed about 
By the sullen winds that blow 
From the desolate shores of doubt 

When the anchors that faith hath cast 
Are dragging in the gale, 

I am quietly holding fast 
To the things that cannot fail. 

I know that right is right ; 

That it is not good to lie ; 

That love is better than spite. 

And a neighbor than a spy ; 

That the rulers must obey ; 

That the givers shall increase ; 

That Duty lights the way 

For the beautiful feet of Peace ; 

In the darkest night of the year, 

When the stars have all gone out. 

That courage is better than fear ; 

That faith is truer than doubt. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


l68 

And fierce though the fiends may fight, 

And long though the angels hide, 

I know that Truth and Right 
Have the universe on their side.’’ 

‘‘ Is that the whole of it } '' Dr. Davidge 
asked, as if he could have listened indefinitely. 

Winnie smiled. 

Not quite. I Ve given you only that part 
of it which I knew you could n’t contradict or 
quarrel with.” 

And the rest } I must have the rest of it,” 
he pleaded. 

‘‘Not now. You wouldn’t accept it. You 
would think the whole poem spoiled by the 
addition. You like what I have given you ” 

“Yes. I could n’t quarrel with it if I wanted 
to. But I wish I were more anxious to do my 
duty and surer of finding the peace that I sup- 
pose does follow it when it ’s done cheerfully. 
Theoretically, too, I know that ‘ truth is mighty 
and will prevail,’ but its everlasting postpone- 
ment is very depressing.” 

They came in sight of the house as the 
doctor finished speaking. Winnie did not 
reply. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


169 


‘‘When will you give me the rest of the 
poem ? ” he resumed, “ or tell me where I can 
find it for myself ? 

“ When — when I think you can believe it as 
I do, if that time comes/’ 

“And if it never comes?” 

“ But it will ! I have more faith than ever 
that it will. Just now I feel sure of it.” 

“ That is strange ! And why ? ” 

“Because you want it and long for it so 
much. Because nothing else satisfies you, or 
ever can. Because, oh. Dr. Davidge, because 
it is true ! ” 

The doctor drove home slowly, as was his 
wont after one of these talks with Winnie May- 
nard. He threw the reins to the servant, who 
met him at the gateway, and who looked as 
though he would have spoken had he not been 
checked by the expression on the doctor’s face. 

Inside the office a lady was waiting, standing 
very still, with a certain intensity in face and 
figure. The doctor strode straight forward 
with an absent-minded look, noticing nothing. 

“ Myron ! ” 

The lady took a step forward and stretched 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


170 

out her hands to him. He turned quickly and 
caught her in his arms. 

‘‘ Oh, Sue ! Sue ! 

It was all he said, but there seemed no need 
of words between them. 

Duxberry had for a long time held many 
theories concerning Dr. Davidge and his do- 
mestic affairs. Gradually one had been adopted 
as the most reasonable, as well as the most sen- 
sational. Mrs. Davidge was in an insane asy- 
lum, where her husband visited her regularly. 
There was some hope of her ultimate recovery. 
This was the belief into which Duxberry had 
settled by degrees, after discussing the proba- 
bilities of her having run away from her hus- 
band, gone on to the stage, lying with an incu- 
rable disease in a city hospital, and travelling 
abroad for her health. The notion that she had 
committed suicide was at one time advanced by 
an independent thinker and readily adopted by 
a few others, but after a while it fell into dis- 
favor. 

The arrival of the lady who had awaited the 
doctor in his office, was known throughout the 
greater part of the town before he reached home. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


171 

and was discussed with the greatest animation. 
Little Mary Maynard, sitting with one of her 
playmates on the doorstep of a neighboring 
house, listened with interest to a conversation 
going on inside. 

She has come back completely cured, they 
say, and there is n’t a bit of danger in her living 
at home now. She had a dreadful fever, and 
that caused the trouble in the first place. It 
was a mistake about insanity running in the 
family. They never had any children, but they 
tried to adopt one and he ran away. They say 
Mrs. Davidge abused him terribly when she was 
in one of her bad spells. Some folks think it 
was Bob Gridley, the doctor was so anxious for 
Mr. Maynard to take him. Perhaps he ’ll go 
back there, now Mrs. Davidge is home again.” 

The child was full of all this news when she 
took her seat that night at the tea-table, and re- 
lated it in a somewhat disjointed manner for the 
edification of the family. 

She had on a beautiful dress, and her gloves 
and hat and parasol were just the same color, 
only she had her veil down and nobody could n’t 
see her face, and she ’s real tall and talks low 


1/2 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


and real sweet. I guess Dr. Davidge ’ll be glad, 
don’t you, Winnie 'i ” 

Winnie smiled as she nodded her head at her 
little sister. She was able to come to the table 
occasionally, and had expressed a desire to end 
her unusually happy day by taking tea with the 
family. But she was very pale, and her breath 
came short. 

‘‘ I think I ’ll go to my room after all, aunt 
Angeline,” she said with some effort. I ’m 
more tired than I thought I was.” 

But in less than twenty-four hours Mrs. 
Davidge left town again. She had gone to her 
father’s on a visit, was the report. He was 
quite an old man and very sick, was not ex- 
pected to live long and was worth an immense 
fortune. Mrs. Davidge was his only child, and 
was to have all the money. Of course there 
would be no need of the doctor’s continuing his 
practice, and very likely he would leave Dux- 
berry and go back to the city again. 

Two days after, the doctor called again on 
Winnie Maynard, none the worse for the entire 
day she had spent in visiting the Lawtons, and 
feeling greatly encouraged by the rapid strides 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


173 


she seemed to be making towards her original 
health and strength. She talked about it with 
great enthusiasm. 

‘‘You are learning how to take care of your- 
self,” the doctor said in a satisfied tone. “You 
are safe so long as you do not over-exert your- 
self, and I can trust now to your own good sense 
for that.” 

“ But you could n't have trusted me day be- 
fore yesterday,” she acknowledged frankly. “ I 
tried to take my supper at the table with the 
rest of the family, and found it was a foolish 
thing to do. I did n't leave my room at all yes- 
terday — by way of atonement.” 

The doctor picked up a cabinet photograph 
which lay upon the table, and gave a quick ex- 
clamation as he looked at it. He turned towards 
Winnie with surprised and inquiring eyes. 

“A Miss Bell Duncan, my cousin Agnes's 
special friend. It was just sent to her. Hand- 
some, is n't she ? Agnes says the picture 
doesn't do her justice, either.” 

“ How old is she ? ” the doctor asked, renew- 
ing his examination of the photograph. 

“Just nineteen. She is to be married in a 


174 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


few weeks and go to England to live. It is a 
great trial to Agnes that she could n’t spend the 
summer with her at Saratoga.” 

‘^And the family.? Have they — do they — 
do you know anything further of them .? ” 

‘‘ Not much. There are several children in 
the family. They live in New York. Mrs. 
Duncan is a widow. She takes charge of Agnes 
somewhat, when she is out of school.” 

Dr. Davidge threw the picture aside, rising as 
he did so. There was some change in him 
since Winnie had seen him last. It seemed to 
her that some great strain had been relaxed, 
some great load lifted. Yet he was as grave 
and stern as ever ; and as he drove away, 
Winnie found that she was just then more 
curious than she had ever been as to his per- 
sonal history. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


^RTHUR COSGROVE ‘‘put up,” in 
Duxberry parlance, at the only hotel 
which the village possessed, “the Tate 
tavern,” as the oldest inhabitants persistently 
called it, notwithstanding that it had acquired 
during the prosperous days of Duxberry, the 
more pretentious title of the Harbright Hotel. 
He had engaged a first-class “ team ” at the 
adjoining livery stable, with instructions that it 
should be reserved for his individual use ; and 
Duxberry, languishing for a new sensation, 
found one in the “doings” of the young man 
from the city. 

“ I had no idea. Agony ” — it was one of his 
various pet names for Miss Haliburton — “ that 
Duxberry was quite such a forsaken place. No 
wonder you’ve found it dull music. But it 
promises entertainment enough for me.” 

“ In what way, I should like to know ? ” 

^75 


1/6 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


Arthur Cosgrove stroked his blonde mous- 
tache, already the admiration and envy of more 
than one of the Duxberry boys, and looked 
amused, self-satisfied, and wise. 

'T is n’t often one gets into such a refreshing 
set of greenhorns,” he remarked. like to 
experiment with human nature, and a chance to 
work on the raw material is particularly inspir- 
ing. I shall find enough to do for the short 
time I stay, and enough to interest me, you may 
be sure.” 

‘‘ Well, you must enjoy the natives more than 
I Ve ever -done,” Agnes remarked, rather puz- 
zled as to Arthur’s exact meaning. I suppose 
there will be an immense amount of talk about 
your coming here, Arthur.” 

Oh, no doubt,” he replied carelessly. ‘‘They 
seem hard up for subjects. It ’s a mercy to 
furnish them with a new one. You don’t mind 
what they say, of course } ” he added, noticing a 
grave expression on his companion’s face. 

Agnes did mind, and enough to make her 
very uncomfortable. It was useless, however, to 
enlarge on that topic. 

“What sort of a specimen is that high and 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


177 


mighty Morse who brought me down here yes- 
terday ? '' 

‘‘Oh, he’s one of the finest fellows in Dux- 
berry,” Agnes answered, quoting the words of 
Jack Godfrey and Sharley Kenyon. Her respect 
for Lon Morse seemed to increase in exact 
proportion to the social distance at which he 
kept himself from her. It was only natural, 
too, that she should be influenced, though 
unconsciously, by the high estimate which every- 
body around her placed upon him. 

Arthur Cosgrove looked at her a little curi- 
ously. 

“ It seems to me that you Ve developed a vast 
amount of admiration for that son of the soil,” 
he said, with a little forced laugh. “ Something 
sudden, Aggie, or of gradual growth } ” 

Agnes laughed in her turn, not noticing, 
apparently, the serious tone in the light words. 

“Oh, gradual, very gradual, I assure you. 
So gradual, in fact, as to be almost imperceptible. 
I admire him — well, as one does Casablanca, 
you know. His reputation for all sorts of good 
things is equal — here in Duxberry — to that 
of the boy of the burning deck history.” 


178 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


“ There was a fellow at the depot they called 
Jack — a pretty good-looking, rather 

“ Oh, yes. Jack Godfrey. He ’s a book-keeper 
in the largest store in town, and much more of 
a gentleman than most of the young men around 
here.” 

‘‘ He looks so.” 

‘‘IVe written to father about him. He^s 
anxious to get a better situation, and wants 
to live in the city anyway. I Ve no doubt 
there are plenty of good chances for him 
there.” 

“ Oh, no doubt,” Arthur replied with his 
customary bantering tone. The city is yearn- 
ing for just such young men. It is ready to 
offer them any inducement to leave their native 
hills and dales. You Ve developed an interest 
in him, too, have you } It must be an extensive 
one to lead you to hunt up business for him.” 

Agnes looked up quickly. 

‘‘ Nonsense ! ” she exclaimed. ‘‘ I 'm not doing 
anything of the kind. He ’s engaged to Sharley 
Kenyon, and it 's just as much for her benefit 
as for his. Jack Godfrey is well enough, but I 
imagine he'd grow rather tiresome after a 




DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


179 


while. There does n’t seem to be much to him 
I don’t exactly see what Sharley ” 

A flash of lightning, followed by a heavy 
crash of thunder, interrupted the sentence. They 
had been riding for some time, were several 
miles from home, and realized with sudden dis- 
may that the storm which had been so long in 
coming as to destroy their fear that it would 
come at all, was at last upon them. Great 
drops were falling. Agnes looked distressed ; 
Arthur, angry. 

‘‘ Bother the rain ! ” he exclaimed petulantly, 
wrenching up the top of the buggy. “ There ’s 
always some confounded nuisance to — got any 
extra wraps, Aggie ” 

But she had taken nothing, not even a shawl, 
though her cousin had brought her one and 
tried to force it upon her just before she started. 

Such a dear little old woman, as you are, 
Winnie ! ” she had said derisively, and thrown 
the shawl aside. She thought of it now with 
longing. Her dress, a light summer silk, would 
be ruined — every drop of water spotted it, she 
remembered ruefully — and she had no one to 
blame but herself. It was growing chilly too, 
and she shivered. 


l8o DUXBERRY DOINGS, 

Arthur turned the horse around in the direc- 
tion of the village. Just ahead of them was a 
large carriage, exceedingly rusty and old-fash- 
ioned, but looking most comfortable as a shelter 
from the rain. Arthur instantly recognized the 
driver, who was alone. 

Here, I say, McFarland, where are you 
going in this deluge } 

‘'Over to Putney, for the minister,” the man 
answered, halting as he spoke, and looking with 
great interest from one to the other. 

“For the minister ! ” Arthur repeated with a 
laugh. “ For an umbrella, most likely. There ’d 
be more sense in it. What did you take this 
road for ? ” 

“This — road.?” the man repeated with a be- 
wildered air. 

“ Did n't you say you were going to Putney .? ” 

“ Putney — yes.” 

“Then you ought to have turned to the — I ’m 
going to Putney. We’ll ride with you, with 
your permission, to keep from getting drenched. 
Here, you sit still. I ’ll manage it.” 

During this brief conversation, Arthur Cos- 
grove had alighted from his own conveyance. 


DUXBERR V DOINGS, 1 8 1 

seized McFarland’s horse by the head and 
turned him in the direction of Duxberry. He 
lifted Agnes from the buggy and placed her in 
the ancient carriage before she fully realized 
what he was about. His own horse he hitched 
to the back of the carriage, then jumped in and 
took his seat by McFarland. 

“ Now this is more cosy,'’ he said with an air 
of satisfaction. ^‘This robe is just what we 
wanted,” and he wrapped it carefully around 
Agnes, apparently unconscious of the fact that 
he was thereby depriving McFarland of his 
natural right and title to the article. ‘‘ Putney ’s 
quite a place,” he continued, as if familiar with 
every inch of its territory. “ What part of the 
town are you going to, my friend } ” 

Mr. McFarland, never averse to social inter- 
course, was perfectly willing to describe Putney, 
its inhabitants in general, his own acquaintances 
in particular, and all facts concerning the 
present condition of the town, its past history 
and future prospects. In the course of the 
conversation he also managed to impart con- 
siderable information concerning his own affairs. 
Arthur Cosgrove, growing tired after a time of 


i 82 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


McFarland’s solo, took the talk into his own 
charge and managed in half a dozen sentences 
to convince him that they were old acquaint- 
ances. 

Of course you remember when I used to 
take your sister Sue to dances in old Hyler’s 
barn } ” he asked, nudging Agnes with his elbow 
as he spoke. He had taken the reins himself 
and relieved McFarland of all responsibility. 

Well, for sure ! ” 

‘‘And went fishing with your brother Ben in 
Cat’s Creek. Don’t you remember 

“Well, for sure ! ” 

“ I thought you ’d do me a favor for old 
acquaintance sake, though I felt pretty well cut 
up at first to think you’d forgotten me. You 
see ’t is n’t pleasant to take a young lady to ride 
and half drown her. I knew exactly how you ’d 
feel under the same circumstances, so I took the 
liberty to ” 

“ This ain’t Putney ! ” 

They had at that moment driven up to the 
door of the old Tate tavern. McFarland 
straightened himself and gazed around at his 
familiar surroundings. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


183 


“ Putney ! No, not by a good deal ! Did 
you understand me to say I was going to Putney ? 
I said I wanted to get to Duxberry for the sake 
of the young lady, you know — and then I 'd see 
you safe on your way to Putney. You got 
things mixed a little, my friend, that ’s all. No 
harm done.” 

He lifted Agnes from the carriage and led the 
way into the hotel parlor. The rain was pour- 
ing in torrents, the thunder and lightning was 
incessant. Agnes still shivered occasionally 
from chilliness and excitement. She had 
laughed at Arthur’s conversation with their 
companion, but she was uneasy and troubled 
through it all. A group of men stood in the 
hall-way — some of those who were accustomed 
to loaf about the railroad station. They looked 
curiously at Agnes as she passed them, while a 
shrill, angry voice reached them through the 
storm from the outside of the house. 

“ I tell you I Ve got to go to Putney, and the 
young lady — ” 

Agnes was thankful that she did not hear 
the rest of it. She was thoroughly uncom- 
fortable. She heard a quick, harsh laugh from 


184 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


one of the men as she closed the parlor door 
behind her. 

In a few minutes a waiter appeared with 
glasses on a little tray, Arthur Cosgrove follow- 
ing him. 

Whiskey. It will keep you from taking 
cold, Agnes. It ’s poor stuff, but the best to be 
got here.” 

He talked rapidly as he prepared the drink 
for her with a quick, professional air. 

What have you done with that man, 
Arthur } ” she asked anxiously. 

The man ! Oh, he's all right. I told the 
fellows to mix him a pretty stiff glass and see 
that his horse and Noah’s ark were headed for 
the historic Putney. He ’ll get there before 
midnight if he follows his nose. The boys 
think it’s a first-rate joke.” 

At first it had seemed very funny to Agnes 
herself, but she had reached a place where she 
wondered that she could have thought so. 

‘‘I think it’s a shame, Arthur,” she said 
hotly. - I ’d rather have been wet through 
,han— ” 

‘‘ Oh, nonsense ! There ’s nothing to make a 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


I8S 


fuss about. You didn't object when I first 
turned the horse round. That was the time to 
protest. You ought to drink that whiskey 
while it 's hot, Agony." 

He had disposed of his own glass in speedy 
fashion and was preparing another. 

But I did n’t know at first who the man 
was," Agnes pursued. ‘‘ That poor, half-witted 
McFarland fellow! Why, he’d believe he was 
on his way to Africa if you told him so." 

‘‘A most convenient fellow to meet in an 
emergency," Arthur responded. ‘‘ Not likely to 
waste time in argument." 

But are you sure that he will get there all 
right .? Do you think he can find his way } 
It’s a fearful dark night." 

‘‘ Oh, the horse can if he can’t. Don’t worry. 
They ’re harnessing up for me now. I ’ll take 
you dowM to your uncle’s right away. I thought 
we ’d better come here first, because — ’’ he 
pointed significantly to the empty glasses on 
the tray. 

Agnes was left alone again for a few minutes. 
She stood by one of the windows looking out 
upon the wild night, which had suddenly dark- 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


1 86 

ened down upon them, though it was only a 
little past sunset. The rain showed no signs of 
abating, though the thunder and lightning were 
gradually growing fainter. She felt relieved at 
Arthur’s re-appearance, and still more so at his 
thoughtfulness in having the horse brought 
around to the back door. The loafers, still 
hanging around the bar in the front of the 
house, were thereby doomed to disappointment. 

‘‘ But he ’s a smart one, that city chap,” com- 
mented one of the patriarchs of the party, 
a statement which no one present seemed in- 
clined to contradict. 


CHAPTER XV. 


was in a commotion the next 
was naturally to be expected, 
a dozen different directions 
had gone the same number of different versions 
of a sensational story, the adventures of Alick 
McFarland, the minister’s hired man, on his 
way to Putney. 

It was fortunate — for Duxberry — that the 
rain had driven so many of the witnesses in- 
doors, thus giving them opportunity for seeing 
Agnes as she passed through the hall on her 
way to the parlor, and understanding in its 
minutest details the order given by her escort 
for hot whiskey. McFarland had lived for years 
in the family of Dr. Holbrook, the eldest 
minister in town, and the only one who had 
remained faithful to Duxberry through its failing 
fortunes. No man among them inspired greater 
or more universal respect, and this feeling 

187 



UXBERRY 
morning, as 
In at least 


1 88 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


restrained in large measure the ridicule to 
which Alick McFarland, by his oddities and 
queer sayings, constantly exposed himself. 
When a lad he had received a severe blow on the 
head, and though bright enough before the 
accident, had never since been of sound mind. 

But he was the soul of fidelity, and fully 
equal to all the duties which devolved upon 
him in Dr. Holbrook's service. Of course he 
was more or less of a laughing-stock to certain 
of the villagers, but he always seemed to enjoy 
their jokes quite as much as they did themselves 
— a fact which they readily quoted when in 
need of justification. But never in the history of 
Duxberry had even the most reckless of its in- 
habitants ventured upon any liberty with Mc- 
Farland to which the venerable Dr. Holbrook 
could possibly object. 

Arthur Cosgrove had seen him at the livery 
stable. He had heard the jocose remarks 
bandied from one to the other, and been in- 
formed, in explanation thereof, that ‘‘ McFarland 
was a half-wit and did n’t even know enough to 
get mad.” An opportunity for him to avail him 
self of the information came sooner than could 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


189 


have been anticipated, and while not one of the 
idlers about the hotel would have dared to do 
what Arthur Cosgrove had done, there was not 
one among them who did not laugh over it with 
hearty appreciation. To the credit of Duxberry 
it should be added that not one of those to 
whom the story was repeated saw anything to 
laugh at, and the ‘‘ women-folks ” were loud in 
their denunciations of Arthur Cosgrove's con- 
duct. These were liberal enough to include 
Agnes Haliburton also, who was regarded by 
the majority as an ‘‘aider and abettor," though 
no one considered her “ the head and front of 
the offending." 

But a still greater sensation was in store for 
them. That morning before breakfast, Mrs. 
Holbrook, with a shawl thrown hastily over her 
head, ran across the road to her nearest neigh- 
bors — the Slocum sisters — with most exciting 
news. 

“ Oh, Jane — Amanda ! " she gasped, “ I Ve 
stood it alone just as long as I possibly can ! 
Something must have happened to the doctor. 
^Llick started for him yesterday afternoon and 
las n't got back yet. I sat up all night, expect- 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


190 

ing them every minute, and what shall I 
do?^^ 

Mrs. Holbrook had grown quite desperate 
with nervousness and anxiety. Nothing less 
than desperation would have sent her to the 
Slocums’ with any matter which she was not 
willing to publish from the house-tops, and she 
was never neighborly ” with them in their 
sense of the word. In fact she disliked them 
quite as much as it was in her gentle nature to 
dislike anybody, but just then there was no one 
else within reach. 

“ Where ’d the doctor gone to.^^” Mrs. 
Amanda asked as soon as she had recovered 
from her first surprise. I did n’t know but 
what he was to home.” 

“ They came over from Putney for him early 
yesterday forenoon — he was to preach a funeral 
sermon — and Alick was to go for him towards 
night. This morning he was to take him over 
to Rydersville, to another funeral. They were 
to start right after breakfast. Oh, where can 
they be.?” 

‘‘ They could n’t possibly have got to Ryders- 
ville without cornin’ back through Duxberry,” 
Mrs. Slocum remarked. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


191 

As no one at all familiar with the location of 
the towns mentioned could possibly have con- 
tradicted this statement, it met with the re- 
ception of a self-evident proposition, and passed 
without comment. 

It just rained pourin' all night," Mrs. Slocum 
added, not in a tone tending to tranquillize Mrs. 
Holbrook. 

‘‘ I know that pretty well," the latter lady ex- 
claimed with more exasperation in her voice 
than the Slocum sisters thought suitable for 
a minister’s wife under any provocation, “ but 
what ought I to do } " 

You can’t go yourself to see what ’s become 
of him," Mrs. Slocum said oracularly, another 
self-evident proposition, considering that Mrs. 
Holbrook was afraid of horses, and had never 
attempted to drive one in her life. ‘‘ We ’re 
a-makin’ butter this mornin’, but I s ’pose — 
why, there’s somebody a-comin’ along now." 

The three women looked down the road with 
eager eyes. It was a strange buggy approach- 
ing, but the man who was driving — yes, it 
certainly was Dr. Holbrook. His wife rushed 
to the door to intercept him. 


192 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


Where 's Alick ? ” she called out, too breath- 
less to say more. 

Her husband asked her the same question at 
the same moment. They looked at each other 
as if petrified. 

‘‘ Lon ! Lon ! Mrs. Slocum shrieked at the 
top of her voice. She had just caught sight of 
Lon Morse driving in a light wagon around a 
turn in the road. He heard her and stopped at 
once. 

‘‘Jest think,” she explained to him with great 
volubility, as he drove up to the door. “ Alick 
McFarland, he started yesterday afternoon to go 
to Putney to get the doctor — ” 

But the doctor, knowing her propensity for 
long stories, interrupted her with his own ac- 
count of what had happened, telling Lon as 
briefly as possible what he would like to have 
him do. 

“ I must go to Rydersville, and as quickly as 
possible,” he concluded. “ Such business can’t 
wait and I ’m depended upon.” 

Mrs. Holbrook returned home, though still in 
a very anxious state of mind. The Slocums 
enewed their butter-making with unusual vigor 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


193 


in the effort to finish the work as soon as pos- 
sible, thereby giving time to make a few visits 
and “talk it all over.” 

Lon Morse could have told the doctor a good 
deal more than the doctor told him. He had 
that morning heard the whole story, or rather 
that part of it which was known by the select 
circle at the hotel. But that Alick McFarland 
had failed to reach his destination was a fact not 
yet known throughout the village. The young 
man set his teeth hard as he drove away from 
the Slocums' door. He was not a particularly 
patient fellow, with all his virtues, and did not 
enjoy the postponement of his own important 
business for the errand which was given him 
to do. His vexation was brief, however; for- 
gotten in his greater indignation at the out- 
rage to which Alick McFarland had been sub- 
jected. 

But before the Slocums could dispose of all 
their domestic duties and make their first call 
— upon Mrs. Bond — Alick McFarland had 
been found, and the Bond family were in pos- 
session of such information as Annie, who 
chanced to be in Hall's store at the time of the 


194 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


arrival, could obtain from the excited by 
standers. 

Lon Morse happened to remember that Dr. 
Holbrook bought the horse of old Ellis down on 
the Forge road, and perhaps he’d gone down 
that way, and there he was, sure enough. He 
was so tipsy when he started that he did n’t 
know one road from another, and besides, it was 
awful dark and raining like everything, and he ’s 
broken his leg and they’ve got to kill him. 
Is n’t that dreadful ! ” 

‘‘ Who } Alick ? ” questioned Mrs. Slocum, 
with ideas completely mixed through the rapidly 
scattered pronouns. Her sister gave her a 
contemptuous glance in rebuke for the interrup- 
tion, and Annie hurried on. 

‘‘That Cosgrove fellow gave him something 
to drink first, and then told the rest of them to 
see that he was started on the right road. I 
s ’pose he thinks that made everything all right. 
And Jack Godfrey says that the liquors were 
mixed on purpose, and that ’s why he got drunk 
so easy. And it rained all night and he was 
just a sight — hardly knew anything when Lon 
found him. And Agnes Haliburton was laugh- 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


19s 


ing in the parlor with him and drinking whiskey, 
and some one heard her talking about that half- 
witted McFarland fellow, as if she thought it 
was a good joke, and I s’pose she did.” 

Annie Bond stopped once more to take breath, 
Mrs. Amanda Slocum improving the opportunity 
to remark with much satisfaction, 

“ I would n’t a bit wonder ef she put him up 
to it in the fust place, so now ! ” 

‘‘ That Cosgrove fellow thinks he ’s pretty 
smart, I guess,” Annie announced with the air 
of a person who intends to stimulate curiosity 
without gratifying it. 

‘‘ Did you hear anything else about him } ” her 
mother inquired, anticipating Mrs. Slocum. 

“Yes, I heard enough about him,” Annie 
answered, with a mysterious movement of her 
head. “There’s talk enough about both of 
them, for that matter, and I believe Jack Godfrey 
is jealous enough of him to kill him, if that 
would do any good.” 

“Jack Godfrey!” her mother ejaculated. 

“Why Jack Godfrey’s en ” 

“ Oh, that don’t make no sort o’ difference,” 
Mrs. Amanda interrupted, rapidly dabbing her 


196 DUX BERRY DOINGS. 

lips with the handkerchief she had taken from 
her reticule. We all know how she ’s been 
goin' on with him.'’ 

‘^And Jack hasn't been a bit like himself 
since she came to Duxberry," Annie said in a 
tone of resentment. ‘‘ I wonder if Sharley 
notices it. I don't see how she can help it." 

‘‘Notices it! Of course she does I She's 
got eyes in her head as well as other folks." 

This remark came from the owner of the 
reticule. 

“ Well, that Haliburton girl will be the last 
one to hear what 's said about them, I suppose," 
and Mrs. Bond appeared to take comfort in the 
reflection. “If Winifred Maynard was round as 
she used to be, I guess some things would be 
different." 

Mrs. Bond looked mysterious in her turn, and 
as if pondering upon her duty in the matter. If 
for once she succeeded in impressing upon the 
Slocums that she knew some interesting items 
of which they were ignorant — well, “ it was a 
good thing," as she afterwards remarked to her 
daughters, “ to let them think other folks knew 
something sometimes which they did n't." 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


197 


Annie Bond's report would have been dis- 
creditable enough to Arthur Cosgrove, even 
without the additions and variations which it 
had gained by repetition and hearsay. Alick 
McFarland had been very drunk, though one 
glass of whiskey was amply sufficient to make 
him so. Dr. Holbrook’s horse had not broken 
his leg, though he had bruised it sufficiently to 
disable him, while the most of Lon Morse’s 
forenoon was spent in caring for him and his 
unfortunate driver. 


CHAPTER XVL 


HE county fair was the great annual 
sensation in Duxberry. For years it had 
been the chosen town for this exhibi- 
tion. Lately its removal to a larger and more 
prosperous place had been much discussed, to 
the indignation of the Duxberry people. They 
had determined this year upon a finer display 
than usual, and great efforts had been made to 
secure that result. 

It 's nothing less than a special providence, 
Aggie,’’ Arthur Cosgrove remarked, ‘‘that I 
happen to be here at this particular time. 
Everybody is talking about the opening night. 
We must be sure to be on hand.” 

But Agnes did not readily assent to this prop- 
osition. 

“ Of course you want to go ? ” he asked, with 
some surprise. 

“Yes,” she said slowly. She felt with a sort 
of intuition that everybody in Duxberry was by 
198 



DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


199 


that time talking of something else as well as 
of the first night of the fair; namely, Arthur 
Cosgrove and his doings. 

“ I wish you would invite Winnie to go with 
us,” she said, in a lugubrious tone, and giving 
no reason for her request. 

Oh, bother Winnie ! ” he exclaimed. ‘‘ No 
offence to your respected cousin, of course,” he 
added hastily, with a little laugh, “but she 
doesn’t strike me as exactly the person one 
would enjoy taking on a regular lark.” 

“ I ’ve heard nothing about a ‘ regular lark,’ ” 
Agnes retorted, with severe emphasis. Evi- 
dently she was harder to please than usual. 

“ Well, of course we expect to have a gen- 
uine good time — there will be novelty enough 
in the people and the things to amuse us — and 
your cousin might be sensitive about remarks 
we should doubtless be called upon to make — 
to each other.” 

“ I shall not go unless she goes,” Agnes said, 
with decision. 

“ ’T is n’t worth quarelling about, anyway,” 
Arthur said, with an almost imperceptible touch 
of anger in his voice ; “ but, if I may be allowed 


200 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


to ask, why are you so anxious for her com- 
pany on this particular occasion ? 

Because I don’t fancy being quite so con- 
spicuous, if you ’d really like to know. I Ve 
not forgotten that night at the hotel, or the 
way I was stared at when I went to ride with 
you the next day — and the next,” Agnes said 
rapidly. 

‘‘Oh, ho!” 

“ And if Winnie is with me it won’t be quite 
so bad. I don’t doubt there ’s been talk enough 
about us in Duxberry,” she concluded. 

“ The idea of your caring what anybody says ! ” 

“But I do care, for all that.” 

For some reason Arthur Cosgrove seemed 
willing to relinquish the subject and turn to 
something more conducive to Agnes’ peace of 
mind — in which effort he was entirely suc- 
cessful. 

But a new obstacle arose when she men- 
tioned the matter to her cousin. 

“ Of course, I should like to go, Agnes, and 
you will please say to Mr. Cosgrove that I am 
greatly obliged to him for thinking of me, but 
you know it will be quite impossible.” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


201 


Impossible ! ” Agnes repeated. 

I never go out now in the evening.*’ 

‘‘ But you go often in the daytime, and you 
might as well try and see what you can do for 
just one night. I don’t believe it would do you 
a bit of harm.” 

Winnie shook her head. 

“ I *m sorry to disappoint you, Agnes.” 

That the disappointment was a genuine one, 
was evident from Agnes’ face. 

‘‘But I don’t mean to be disappointed. You 
must go, and that *s all there is about it. Arthur 
will be just as disappointed as I,” she added, 
with some sacrifice of truth for the sake of 
strength in her argument. 

It was the first opportunity which Winnie had 
had for doing anything towards her cousin’s 
entertainment since she had been in Duxberry. 
Perhaps it was selfish in her to refuse this 
request, she thought. It was true that she 
went out often in the daytime. Dr. Davidge 
was very kind about taking her to ride, and 
she had ventured on two or three very short 
walks with her father and the children. But 
mentally and physically she shrank from the 


202 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


idea of the trip proposed by Agnes, much as 
she would have enjoyed a visit to the fair. If 
she could only be sure that it would do her no 
harm — for just one night, as Agnes had sug- 
gested. Her aunt Angeline seemed fully deter- 
mined upon departure, the needs of the Barker 
household growing daily more urgent, and Win- 
nie felt that it was necessary for her to save 
all her strength for that emergency. But to 
sacrifice Agnes and her great desire, for the 
sake of saving herself for possible contingen- 
cies, seemed a selfish thing to do, no matter 
how she reasoned about it. 

Agnes gained her point the next day by se- 
curing Winnie’s consent, and was highly elated 
by her success. Yet Winnie’s generosity had 
pleaded harder than any of Agnes’ words — a 
fact she could hardly have understood even if 
Winnie had mentioned it, which was the last 
thing she was likely to do. 

She was a little tired and somewhat flushed, 
even when they first reached the town-hall. 
She became at once the centre of an affection- 
ate group, all of them surprised and pleased to 
see her among them in a public gathering once 


more. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


203 


‘‘ And you ’re looking splendidly, Winnie,” 
Annie Bond exclaimed enthusiastically. It 
will do you good to come, I ’m sure.” 

Mrs. Bond, who stood near by, looked dubious 
— as Winnie felt. She better understood the 
fine color on Winnie’s face. 

Arthur Cosgrove wa^ exceedingly lively and 
disposed to enjoy himself. He had already 
made friends with several of the Duxberry boys, 
who evidently looked up to him with much def- 
erence and admiration. Agnes insisted upon 
staying in a quiet corner with her ' cousin, to 
Arthur’s disgust, but he appeared to forget his 
annoyance after a few minutes, and disappeared 
with three or four young men who seemed more 
eager for his company than for any other at- 
traction. 

Jack Godfrey was there with Sharley Kenyon, 
and, to vary a monotony which was becoming 
rather tiresome, Agnes consented, while Sharley 
remained with Winnie, to go with him to 
another part of the room to examine a piece of 
pen-work, which, appropriately framed and 
placed in a conspicuous position, attracted con- 
siderable attention. 


204 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


It is yours, I suppose ? Agnes inquired, a 
little indifferently. She had seen finer speci- 
mens hundreds of times, she thought to her- 
self. 

As she glanced up at the chirographical artist 
she found his eyes fixed upon her with a con- 
centrated gaze from which she instinctively 
drew back. He turned his head aside, con- 
scious of what she had seen, and proposed a 
stroll in another direction. 

I 'll go back to my cousin, if you please," 
Agnes said* shortly ; ‘‘I'm tired." 

“ Nothing here, you think, worth looking at 
after the Centennial, and your New York exhi- 
bitions ! " 

In spite of himself Jack Godfrey's pique 
made itself manifest. Agnes did not reply. 

“Well, of all the barefaced, outrageous do- 
ing — " and Mrs. Amanda Slocum adjusted her 
spectacles for a squarer look. “ And there 's 
Sharley Kenyon moping by herself in the cor- 
ner, and Winnie Maynard trying to smooth it 
over to her, I hain’t no doubt. I wonder where 
that city fellow's gone to. I hain't seen him 
here to-night." 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


205 


The observing Mrs. Slocum passed on, di- 
recting the attention of those who had not 
already noticed them, to ''that finified Jack 
Godfrey and stuck-up Haliburton girl.” 

Agnes returned to her former place to find 
that Lon Morse and Sharley had takpn Winnie 
a little way to see the model of a threshing-ma- 
chine which the young fellow explained to them 
with great enthusiasm. She could watch from 
where she stood every gesture he made and 
every change upon his expressive face. Jack 
Godfrey remained close by her side, notwith- 
standing her unmistakable hint that his pres- 
ence was not essential to her comfort. She was 
wondering, too, what had become of Arthur. 

It was a long time since he had left them. 
She had promised Winnie that they would not 
stay late. More than that, she found nothing 
interesting in the rural display, and was her- 
self anxious to get away from it. Lon Morse 
brought the ladies back in a few minutes. 

"Winnie is tired out. Miss Haliburton. If 
you have no objection I will take her home 
right away, and — ” 

Agnes drew herself up with added haught^- 


206 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


ness. She resented the implication that she 
was forgetful of her cousin’s comfort. 

I was only waiting your pleasure to release 
her,” she said in reply. I have been ready to 
go for some time. There is no occasion to 
trouble you, Mr. Morse.” 

Winnie did not hear the short conversation. 
With Agnes she was looking around in every 
direction to catch some sight of their escort. 

Perhaps little Bob Gridley, temporarily de- 
taching himself from the care of Mr. Maynard 
and the company of the Maynard children, 
divined their desire. At any rate he volun- 
teered a statement to which there were a large 
number of interested auditors. 

That Cosgrove feller. Miss Harry Burton, 
he ’s a-playin’ cards down stairs in a little room 
with a lot of other fellers. Me and Fixy Dull- 
wedge we peeped and seen ’em. They had lots 
'of money on the table, too.” 

The gentleman whose whereabouts and occu- 
pation had been so plainly described, appeared 
at that moment, perhaps a little surprised at the 
battery of eyes brought to bear upon him, and 
the singular expression on more than one of the 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


207 


faces. His own face was very red. His man- 
ner was excited and grew more so as his glance 
fell upon Jack Godfrey. 

‘‘ Arthur/’ Agnes said earnestly, stepping 
closely to him, please take us home as quick 
as you can. Winnie can’t stay any longer.” 

“And take you from your fascinating society ” 
he sneered with a scowl at Jack. Agnes bit her 
lip with vexation. For the last fifteen minutes 
she had been growing furiously angry with her- 
self and everybody else. She felt that she had 
at last reached the limit of her endurance. 

Perhaps Arthur Cosgrove received some 
intimation of that fact from a certain set look 
on her face. At any rate he went off at once 
without further demonstration of any kind. 
Agnes was conscious of being glad that Lon 
Morse had not witnessed this little episode. 
He had gone back to show his model to some 
one interested in it. She never in her life had 
experienced a greater sense of relief than she 
felt when she and Winnie set out on their way 
home. 

But the feeling was of short duration. 
Arthur’s excitement had not in the least sub- 


2o8 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


sided, and in a few minutes she smelt liquor in 
his breath as he turned towards them with an 
uproarious laugh at one of his own jokes. 

“ Keep in the road, Arthur,” she called out at 
that moment, seizing him by the arm. It was 
very dark. She could scarcely distinguish the 
horse, but she felt from the motion of the buggy 
that he was being recklessly driven. It was 
raining too, a little. • 

Please let me take the reins.” 

It was Winnie Maynard's voice, and there was 
a compelling power in it which seemed to take 
effect upon Arthur Cosgrove. He ceased laugh- 
ing, and made no resistance when she half rose 
to exchange seats with him. 

“ O Winnie, are n’t you afraid ? ” Agnes 
called out tremulously. For herself she was 
thoroughly frightened. Winnie did not answer. 
She was trying to soothe the horse, who was — 
whether frightened or not — trembling quite as 
much as Agnes, and who had found it -hard 
work to keep his feet on the pile of stones by 
the wayside into which he had been driven. 
She did not attempt to go on. It was all she 
could do to hold the horse in the road while she 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


209 


tried to quiet him, but in another moment they 
heard the sound of horse's feet just behind them. 

‘‘ Oh, mercy ! " Agnes screamed, clutching 
Winnie’s arm as she had Arthur’s. But the 
sound gradually ceased as she spoke, and in an 
instant a man, carrying a dark lantern, stepped 
to the side of the buggy. It was Lon Morse. 

‘‘ O Lon, I ’m so glad ! ” Winnie said with 
a little catch in her voice, as she saw him. The 
reins dropped through her hands, and Lon took 
hold of the horse’s head. 

“ Mr. Cosgrove, you will please help these 
ladies into my buggy as quick as you can. It is 
just behind, in the road.” 

But neither of them availed themselves of 
his assistance — such as it was. He made way 
for them to leave the buggy and did not attempt 
to get out of it himself. 

Lon turned the horse around and put the 
reins into his hand. 

‘‘ The horse will go straight to the stable,” 
he said shortly, ‘‘ if you let him alone,” and he 
went without another word to the buggy where 
Winnie and Agnes were sitting. 

Agnes was crying helplessly and Winnie had 
fainted on her cousin’s shoulder. 


210 


DUX BERRY DOINGS, 


‘‘ Can you drive, Miss Haliburton ? Lon 
Morse asked as he put his arm around the 
unconscious girl. 

“ I don’t know how,” Agnes answered, trying 
in vain to steady her voice, which was broken on 
the last words by another burst of tears. 

There was no further word spoken, and Lon 
Morse, still holding Winnie, drove as fast as 
possible. There was a gruff exclamation from 
Miss Bascom when he reached the house and 
carried Winnie into the sitting-room. Agnes 
followed silently. 

‘‘ Of course,” the grim lady said in her most 
staccato style. Certainly. Why not } ” and 
she applied restoratives while she emitted these 
ejaculations. Winnie opened her eyes with a 
dazed expression — a look in which there was 
no intelligence. 

‘‘She ’s out of the woods again,” Miss Bascom 
said hastily to Lon who was watching her with 
great anxiety. “ She ’ll have a chance to go to 
the fair once more if she wants to — I mean if 
her cousin Agnes wants it,” but Agnes had dis- 
appeared, to Miss Bascom’s evident chagrin. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

l/M ISS BASCOM’S hair was twisted into a 
smaller knob than usual, her lips set in 
a firmer compression, and her apron- 
strings tied in a harder knot — all of them indica- 
tions of a troubled condition of mind. 

Naturally she had less curiosity than belongs 
to most persons. If I did n't have so much 
business of my own, I might find time to attend 
to other people’s," she occasionally remarked, 
and sometimes replied to the too personal ques- 
tions of the Slocums. ‘‘ I ’ve known people who 
grew rich minding their own affairs," was one 
of her axioms. 

Nevertheless, she would have been less than 
human had she felt no curiosity concerning the 
circumstances of the girls’ return from the fair, 
the night before. To the curiosity was added 
an intense anxiety. It had been necessary for 
Lon Morse to go for Dr. Davidge, after finding, 


2II 


212 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


— as they did ten minutes after Winnie was 
brought into the house, — that her condition 
was an alarming one. The doctor had lost no 
time in coming. He looked very grave, and 
said nothing, except that he would come again 
early in the morning. He had just made his 
second call ; would come again about noon, he an- 
nounced in leaving, and still had nothing to say. 

Agnes Haliburton was equally silent. That 
she was mentally miserable was evident enough 
from her face. Miss Bascom, in spite of her 
desire and intention, had grown fond of Agnes, 
though it was a fact she was reluctant to acknowl- 
edge, even to herself. Every one of her faults she 
traced directly to her education and surround- 
ings, things which, according to her reasoning, 
‘‘the girl was no more responsible for than 
George Washington was for the Desert of Sa- 
hara.” She found in her an affectionate, trustful 
nature, a sweet disposition, and so much un- 
developed capacity for various kinds of comfort, 
so much ability for usefulness, that, as she de- 
clared, “ it positively made her head swim to 
think of it.” That Agnes and Winnie were 
not naturally so unlike as they appeared, was a 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


213 


theory she had gradually formed and stoutly 
maintained. But how to ‘‘ civilize Agnes and 
make a decent sort of a woman of her” was 
a problem she had not yet solved. The appear- 
ance of Arthur Cosgrove only complicated the 
difficulty. ‘‘ I guess she ’s twisting the rope for 
her own halter, fast enough,” she had remarked 
to Mr. Maynard, ‘‘and if she's bound to hang 
herself she might as well get it around her neck 
first as last.” 

Miss Bascom, having found that her departure 
from the Maynard household was for the present, 
impossible, set herself to work to make the best 
of it. It was her habit with all obstacles, trials, 
and disappointments. So far it had proved one 
of the principal employments of her life, and 
bade fair to continue such. The house had 
been thoroughly cleaned, the pantry abundantly 
supplied, and the clothing of the family put in 
complete order, in view of her leaving them ; 
and for the first time in months she had that 
morning, after clearing away the breakfast 
dishes, wondered what she could find to do. 
Even Bob Gridley was “all mended up for 
once,” she thought with satisfaction, uncon- 


214 


DUX BERRY DOINGS, 


scions as yet of an enormous rent which he 
had made in the knee of his pants that morning 
on his way to school. 

Lon Morse, coming into the kitchen in his 
usual familiar way, was surprised to see Miss 
Bascom sitting quite still and apparently ab- 
sorbed in thought. It was a most novel position 
for her, and they smiled at each other as if in 
mute understanding of the fact. 

“ I saw the doctor this morning. Miss 
Angeline,'’ the young man said, leaning against 
the opposite side of the table by which she was 
sitting. His face had grown grave again. 

‘‘ I thought likely, by your not coming round 
earlier. Sit down, Lon, sit down. Did he say 
anything to you } I could n’t get a word out of 
him.” 

‘‘ Not a great deal,” Lon answered, throwing 
himself into a chair near by. ‘‘ He says it ’s 
hard to tell, just yet, how much this has thrown 
Winnie back. But he ’s anxious enough about 
her, that ’s easy to see. How does she seem to 
you. Miss Angeline } ” 

Miss Bascom shook her head ominously. 

“ A good deal as she did when she was 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


215 


first hurt — for three or four weeks after 
we found that she would probably live. She 
lies perfectly quiet, with her eyes closed, and 
there does n't seem to be anything to do 
for her but just wait. That 's harder for me 
than any amount of hard work. Agnes Hali- 
burton has been sitting with her all the fore- 
noon. I wonder what she's been thinking 
about." 

Lon Morse gave a sudden twist to the cap 
which he held in his hands. 

‘‘I feel very sorry for Miss Haliburton," he 
said earnestly. Of course she was in no way 
to blame." 

“ I don't suppose anyone 's to blame for not 
having common sense. If you could buy it at 
the grocery store at so much a pound — and it 
was n't too expensive — why, you might expect 
people to invest occasionally and keep a little 
stock on hand. It 's handy to have ; for 
once in a while you feel the need of it, or see 
that somebody else does. But it's an article 
you can't get in paper bags — more 's the 
pity ! ” 

Dr. Davidge drove up to the door at that 


2i6 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


moment, and passed through the kitchen on his 
way to Winnie’s room. 

‘‘ Any change yet } ” he inquired abruptly. 

Miss Bascom shook her head, and he closed 
the door behind him. 

‘‘There’s another miserable individual,” she 
said in a grim tone, “and perhaps he isn’t to 
blame, either. I suppose, Lon,” she added, 
after a pause in which he had drawn the obvious 
inference from her words, “ that you ’re willing 
to tell me how this thing — whatever it was 
— came about } ” 

“ The excitement was too much for Winnie,” 
he answered. “ She stayed too long — and Mr. 
Cosgrove is not very familiar with the road — it 
was a very dark night. She offered to drive, 
and, of course she had no strength for that 
sort of thing.” 

“ I should think not ! But Mr. Cosgrove did 
not come home with them,” she pursued, fully 
conscious that though, doubtless, Lon was telling 
her the truth, he was not telling the whole of it. 

“ There was no necessity. I overtook them 
before they had gone far, and offered to bring 
them myself — in fact, I insisted upon it.” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


217 


‘‘ Humph ! There he is now/' 

Another buggy drove up to the door, and the 
young man just mentioned swung himself out 
of it. Lon Morse rose hastily. 

“ Oh, sit down," Miss Bascom said sharply, 
with an impatient gesture and a frown on her 
face. ‘‘ Agnes is at liberty now. She ’ll tend 
to him — and perhaps he ’d just as lieve see her 
as me," she concluded, her face relaxing a 
little. 

But Lon Morse had no more time to spare. 
In fact Miss Bascom had been surprised that he 
seemed able to spare so much. Idleness in the 
middle of the forenoon was a most unusual 
thing for either of them, and after his departure 
she went herself to Winnie’s room. 

Agnes Haliburton was not needed there, and 
had no desire to stay after the doctor’s arrival. 
She was at the parlor window when Arthur 
Cosgrove drove up to the door. 

There was some constraint in their meeting. 
Agnes evidently had something ready to say, 
but her lips trembled and she did not speak as 
she shook hands with him. 

‘‘ Last night’s business was confoundedly 


2I8 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


rough on a fellow, Agony,’' Arthur said, with an 
attempt to appear at ease. ‘‘ Of course I would 
• not quarrel with such a fellow as that Alonzo 
Melissa Morse, before ladies, too ; but I ought 
to have knocked him down, — there ’s no doubt 
about that.” 

‘‘ But, Arthur — ” Agnes began at last. 

“ Oh, I suppose you imagined that I could n’t 
drive straight because I let the horse have his 
head a minute while I was laughing over that 
joke on old Hall. The idea ! I would n’t have 
stood such a thing from anybody but you. 
Agony ; and I must confess I was pretty mad 
for a minute when your pompous little cousin 
took the reins.” 

Winnie was brought home in a dead faint,” 
Agnes said hurriedly, finding both opportunity 
and self-control at the same moment, and this 
morning — ” 

Well, I don’t wonder at that,” Arthur inter- 
rupted. ‘‘ She need n’t have been so officious. 
I thought it generally agreed with a woman to 
have her own way,” and he smiled as if mending 
matters more successfully than he had hoped. 
‘‘ I hardly think any one would hold me respon- 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


219 


sible when I was only trying to be decently 
civil all round/' 

Agnes was silent, though not wholly con- 
vinced. At the same time she was greatly re- 
lieved by Arthur's arguments on his own side. 
Everything began to look different to her, seen 
in the bright daylight, in the pleasant parlor, and 
from Arthur's point of view. To be sure, there 
was the card-playing and the liquor-drinking. 
He mentioned neither of those things, and as she 
recalled them at that moment they did not seem 
like such heinous offences, after all. It was 
only because this was Duxberry, and Duxberry 
people were so narrow-minded and conservative. 
They knew nothing of society and city ways. 
They were easily shocked, and no doubt thought 
Arthur was fast and dissipated, and — well, they 
ought to see some of the young men who were 
at Saratoga last summer, if they had that idea ! 

‘‘ I 've got more than enough of that fair," 
Arthur went on. “Everything there is too slow 
for me, altogether. Can’t we take that trip to 
High Spur this afternoon } It 's a perfect 
day." 

“ Why, Arthur, you don’t understand. Win- 


220 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


nie is very sick indeed/' and the emphasis 
which Agnes laid upon the last word fully con- 
veyed her meaning. “ Mr. Morse had to go for 
the doctor right away last night. He's been 
here twice this morning ; he 's here now. 
Didn't you see the buggy 

‘‘I did n't notice. You don’t mean to say, 
Agnes, that it was your cousin's going out last 
night that made her sick ^ 

“ Of course it was, and it was awfully selfish 
in me to insist upon it as I did. I did n't be- 
lieve it could hurt her. And of course all that 
excitement coming home — I do think you 
might have been a little more careful under all 
the circumstances,” she concluded, forgetting 
for an instant his magnanimity in refraining 
from quarrelling with Winnie and knocking 
down Lon Morse. 

Arthur whistled, drummed on the window- 
ledge, and looked, as he felt, decidedly uncom- 
fortable. 

“ So you mean that you 've decided to punish 
me for it all by not going to ride with me } ” 

‘‘ Why, I can’t go — I don't want to go, with 
Winnie in such danger. Some one has to sit 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


221 


with her every minute. Miss Bascom has the 
whole family to see to.’' 

‘‘ I don’t exactly see how they managed to 
get along before you came to Duxberry, Agnes,” 
Arthur said, half-smiling as he picked up his 
hat, though there was no smile in the tone of 
his voice. ‘‘ I wish you would n’t look quite so 
worried. I shan’t go to High Spur till you can 
go with me if I wait a week, presuming I can 
retain my senses for that length of time in this 
town.” 

Agnes was not sorry to have him go. She 
was anxious to speak to the doctor, if possible, 
when he came from Winnie’s room, and it was 
with a sense of relief that she saw Arthur 
drive away. 

Dr. Davidge was anxious, also, to speak to 
her, and came into the parlor as soon as Arthur 
left it. 

'‘You will not consider it unreasonable in 
me, Miss Haliburton, if I demand from you a 
statement of what occurred last night to injure 
your cousin to this extent.” 

Agnes had fully intended to tell him, knowing 
that it was his right to be told, but the impulse 


222 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


was instantly driven back by the expression of 
his face and the tone of his voice. To ‘‘de- 
mand ” a statement in that manner ! She grew 
hard and defiant as she confronted him. 

“I have no statement to make, Dr. Davidge.” 

“ There has been some great strain — some 
shock to the nerves — something more than the 
mere effort of her going to the town-hall could 
account for. I asked Lon Morse about it this 
morning. He referred me to you.” 

“ Probably he was not willing to tell you that 
he compelled us to. get out of our own carriage 
into his. Winnie was tired to death when we 
started for home, and she fainted just after she 
got into Mr. Morse's buggy — a very needless 
tax on her strength.” 

“ I can hardly believe that Lon Morse com- 
pelled you to do such a thing without some very 
good reason. What was it? ” 

“An absurd notion that my friend did not 
know — couldn't see how to drive, because it 
was a dark night! You may call that a ‘very 
good reason.' I don't.” 

Dr. Davidge’s scowl deepened. The look 
with which he regarded Agnes was not pleasant 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


223 


to see. She manifested her indifference to it 
by taking up a newspaper which lay on the 
table near at hand, and apparently becoming 
interested in it. The doctor turned and left 
the room. It is probable that he would have 
slammed the door behind him had it not been 
for disturbing Winnie. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 



ONES HALIBURTON returned to 
her cousin's room in a most uncomfort- 
able state of mind. Anger had been 
added to the regret, mortification, and distress- 
ing anxiety which of themselves seemed more 
than she could bear. Her face was deeply 
flushed, her breath came in little gasps. Miss 
Bascom was quick to notice these signs of her 
excitement. 

‘‘ Had a quarrel with that city sprig of nobil- 
ity, most likely, and a good thing — as long as 
it lasts," she thought, with satisfaction. 

The medicines had been changed, and full 
directions for their use written out on a little 
card. Miss Bascom pointed to it silently, and, 
rising, left the room again. Agnes resumed 
her place by the side of Winnie. She had 
thought of many things while she sat there 
before, and now was thinking harder than ever. 
It was not fifteen minutes before her anger 


224 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


225 


changed, as was inevitable, into the keenest 
remorse. She formed a definite resolution as 
she pondered upon her talk with Dr. Davidge, 
though even as she formed it she wondered 
how she could force herself to carry it out. 

It was late in the afternoon before she made 
an effort in that direction. She had been sit- 
ting with Winnie all day ; Miss Bascom, even 
when at leisure, manifesting no desire to re- 
lieve her from her post of duty. She went to 
that lady, who was busily sewing in the kitchen. 
Bob Gridley having in due time arrived and 
presented the rent in his knee. 

‘‘ I want to go out a little while, aunt Ange- 
line,'’ she said humbly ; if you can sit with 
Winnie, I can get back before you want to set 
the table for supper.’’ 

Miss Bascom merely nodded, gathering up 
her work as she did so, in reply to Agnes’s ap- 
peal. She had her own opinion of Agnes’s 
design. ‘‘And she’ll live to wish she’d been 
dead and buried before she was born, if she 
makes it up again with that fellow. But I 
s’pose she ’s stood it as long as she can.” 

Agnes went as rapidly as possible to Dr. 


226 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


Davidge's house, and rang the door*bell before 
allowing herself to stop and think what she 
was doing. Reflection meant flight, and she 
had stood it as long as she could,'’ — the only 
part of Miss Bascom’s conjecture which was 
correct. The sedate man-servant opened the 
door and showed her into the doctor's office. 

The gentleman sat with his elbows on his 
desk, his head buried in his hands. Agnes 
stood perfectly still just inside the door. He 
had not even heard her enter. 

‘‘Dr. Davidge," she said softly. 

He looked up with a start, then rose, taking 
a step forward. 

“ Winnie — is she — is Miss Maynard worse } " 
he asked sharply. 

Agnes shook her head. 

“ I think she 's a little better. I counted her 
pulse just before I came away. It was fifty-two." 

Dr. Davidge smiled in spite of himself. 
Added to the great relief which her words gave 
him, was considerable amusement at her pro- 
fessional investigation. He courteously placed 
a chair for her. She took it, but did not at- 
tempt to say anything further. 



He bad not even heard her enter. 

Duxberky Doings, page 22G. 





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DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


227 


And you came to tell me this ? It was 
very kind of you, Miss Haliburton, knowing 
my great anxiety. But I was going to Mr. 
Maynard’s in a few minutes myself.” 

^'Yes, I supposed so,” Agnes replied, then 
stopped again. 

Dr. Davidge looked surprised, as she could 
easily discern. 

‘‘I — I wanted to see you here,” she began 
once more. I thought it might be easier for 
me to — I — you have no idea how ashamed 
I have felt ever since, for my conduct to you 
this morning, Dr. Davidge.” 

The fine face was more flushed than ever, 
and her lips trembled. If the doctor had been 
surprised before, he was now paralyzed with 
astonishment. 

‘‘ Of course I ought to have told you what 
caused all this trouble,” Agnes hurried on. 
‘‘ Winnie was frightened — we were both fright- 
ened — when he — Mr. Cosgrove — started to 
drive us home. He was — ” the words were 
coming quite as hard as she had anticipated — 
‘‘he had been drinking, just a little, but enough 
to make him somewhat careless, and h,e did n’t 


228 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


notice that he was driving to the side of the 
road. It was very dark, you know.*' 

Agnes stopped to steady herself a little. She 
had not ventured to look again at the doctor. 

‘‘ Winnie took the reins and tried to hold the 
horse still, and then Mr. Morse came up and 
told us to get out. I told you that this morn- 
ing,'’ she concluded, with a little catch in her 
voice. 

‘‘ Miss Haliburton ! " 

Agnes looked up quickly. There was a tone 
in his voice which she had never before heard, 
and he stood opposite to her with an equally 
new expression on his face. 

‘‘ I thank you more than I can tell," he said, 
‘‘ for this explanation — not so much because 
it has confirmed my suspicions of something of 
this kind, but because it has removed certain 
unpleasant suspicions of — you." 

Of me ! " 

“ I .will be as frank as you have been," he 
went on. I have judged you superficially, for 
I believed you utterly selfish, heartless, and — " 
O Dr. Davidge ! " 

“A harsh judgment, I know. My judgments 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


229 


are apt to be so. And after this morning — 
will you please tell me why you would not tell 
me this when I asked you before } '' 

‘‘ Because of the way in which you asked it/' 
Agnes answered, almost at her ease again, and 
grateful for her mental relief. ‘‘ Why, Dr. 
Davidge, I meant to tell you all the time. I 
was waiting to tell you when you came into the 
parlor and — and — " 

‘‘ And what } " 

‘‘ I felt as if you insulted me, looking at me 
as you did, — as if I 'd murdered my cousin in 
cold blood, — and speaking as you did. It 
made me angry. Nothing would have made 
me tell you then." 

‘‘ And if it were insulting then — you have 
waited for no apology from me. Miss Halibur- 
ton, before — " 

Agnes smiled, fully understanding the dis- 
connected sentence. 

‘‘ Oh, of course I knew better just as soon as 
I thought it over. I was sure it was only your 
way." 

‘‘Only — my — way." 

Dr. Davidge repeated the words slowly. He 


230 


DJJXBERRY DOINGS. 


threw up his head and met the reflection of his 
face in a mirror upon the wall. He passed his 
hand over his eyes as he turned around. 

‘‘ It is getting to be my only way, I am 
afraid,” he said, with his old sombre expression. 

No wonder, and I don’t wonder either, that it 
repelled your confidence. I ’ve never liked you. 
Miss Haliburton, — before. I ask your pardon 
in my turn.” 

‘‘ For not liking me ? ” Agnes asked with a 
little laugh. 

“ No, no ! For misjudging you — for my rude- 
ness sometimes. It has been nothing less than 
that.” 

I ’m glad you don’t think quite so badly of 
me as you did at first. I ’m selfish enough. I 
never knew how much so till I lived with my 
cousin Winnie. But then she ’s different, any- 
way, from other girls.” 

The doctor was looking at Agnes with an 
absorbed expression. 

There is something I would like to say to 
you. Miss Haliburton, if I may do so without 
offence.” 

She showed her readiness to listen to what 
he had to say. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


231 


“ You have a hundred-fold more power for 
good or for evil than your cousin Winnie ever 
possessed. It depends wholly on yourself, as 
of course you know, what you do with it. 
Young, lovely, attractive as you are — don’t 
wince — it might be your grandfather talking 
to you for any living interest my life can hold 
— you can help or hurt every one around you as 
you please. You have had culture, society, 
travel, all such advantages. What use are you 
going to make of them for yourself or anybody 
else For heaven’s sake — for earth’s sake — 
think sometimes of these things ! ” 

He was more excited than she had ever seen 
him. He took a few steps about the room, 
then stopped again, somewhat quieter. 

‘‘ I never preach,” he resumed in a different 
tone, more like his usual stern and passionless 
one, ‘‘and I ’m anything but a model for those 
who do. I have no religion and little philos- 
ophy. But I know something of life — and 
death, and I tell you that the death of the body 
is nothing to the living death of hope and hap- 
piness, and all precious things, which comes to 
some men through women as fair as you. This 


232 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


is what I wanted to say to you. Thank you 
for your generosity in allowing me the lib- 
erty.^’ 

Agnes rose as he finished speaking. 

‘‘ It is for me to thank you/’ she said. I 
must go now. Dr. Davidge, I am grateful to 
you for — for — everything.” 

‘‘You will go with me,” the doctor replied. 
“The buggy is at the door, and — ” 

“ Oh, no ! I would much rather go alone, 
please. And you think that Winnie — ” she 
looked at him with an expression which plainly 
showed what assurance she was longing for. 

“ Probably this relapse is only temporary. 
We will hope so. But such extreme prostra- 
tion is very alarming, as you doubtless know. 
Winnie Maynard must be saved, not only from 
her own suffering, but for the sake of the good 
she was born to do in the world.” 

A minute later, and the doctor drove out of 
sight, without urging Agnes to accompany him. 
She was walking as rapidly as possible — their 
departure being observed by more than one pair 
of curious eyes — when Arthur Cosgrove over- 
took her. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


233 


‘‘ Why, Aggie, where have you been ? he 
inquired. 

On a little errand,’’ she answered. 

‘‘I was just starting on one — a very dis- 
agreeable one for me. I wish I could hope it 
would prove equally so to you.” 

Well, that strikes me as a remarkably 
generous wish, Arthur,” and Agnes laughed. 

What is it 

‘‘ My father has sent for me — is n’t very well, 
and wants me to attend to some business for 
him. I must go, of course, confound it, and 
right away — on the eight o’clock train to-night. 
I wish you would tell me that you are sorry, 
Agony.” 

He was gazing most earnestly at her impas- 
sive countenance. 

I certainly can’t justify my name in my 
amount of regret,” she answered lightly. 

Nonsense ! ” 

He struck off the heads of a clump of daisies 
by the roadside with his cane as he made the 
impatient exclamation. For some reason he 
forbore to pursue the subject. 

Exactly ! ” mused Miss Bascom as she saw 


234 


DUXBERRV DOINGS. 


them coming along the road. ‘‘ I hope she feels 
now that the universe is in running order again. 
But he don’t look as if he ’d had a fortune left 
him, or expected one in a hurry.” 

Arthur waited at the door-step for Agnes to 
ask him to enter — which she did not do. 

Good-bye,” she said, extending her hand 
with more cordiality than she had shown during 
the whole walk. I hope I shall be in New 
York myself before very long ; I ’ll let you know 
when just as soon as I know myself.” 

At first she had not intended to say anything 
like the last clause of her sentence, but the ex- 
pression of Arthur’s face changed her resolu- 
tion. 

‘‘You think I’m queer to-day, I know you 
do,” she added soberly. “ So I am, and out of 
sorts, and you must n’t mind it. I shall be all 
right again when I ’m once out of Duxberry.” 

“ Heaven speed the day then ! I wish you 
were going with me this evening.” 

“ So do I, Arthur,” she replied, with great 
heartiness, and she left him to get what meagre 
comfort he could from those few words. 

Just inside the door was a lank, shambling 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


235 


figure successfully balanced on one leg, with 
mouth and eyes wide open, — Bob Gridley, who 
was evidently waiting for Agnes, and who never 
had the courage to approach her unless with 
some proffered service. 

O Miss Harry Burton,'^ he jerked out in a 
hoarse whisper, that Cosgrouge feller, he ’s 
goin' to be 'rested to-morrer, put in jail ef he 
don't look out. Can't you tell him, so 's he 
will.?" 

^‘What do you mean.?" Agnes asked with a 
good deal of sharpness in the question. 

‘‘ I don't know what I mean, that 's what they 
said." 

What who said .? " 

Them fellers he was playin' cards with last 
night. He got all the money, an' they was 
awful mad, an' said Squire Holly he 'd fix him, 
an' get it back again. I heard 'em a-sayin' so 
's afternoon an' I hurried home so 's to tell yer." 

More than one idea seemed slowly penetrating 
Agnes's brain. She looked fixedly at Bob Grid- 
ley, who seemed to be honored by even this 
attention. ^‘You've done a' good many kind 
things for me. Bob, since I 've been here," she 


236 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


said so slowly that the boy could absorb every 
word. I wonder why } '' 

O Miss Harry Burton, because you ’re so 
splendid ! ” 

He touched with the greatest reverence the 
fringe of the shawl which hung over her arm. 
Agnes smiled, but the smile was a very sad one. 

‘‘ I ’m very much obliged to you. Bob. You ’re 
very good and that ’s better than being splendid, 
you know.” 

An’ the Cosgrouge feller’ 1 ” 

‘‘He is going away to-night. You needn’t 
worry about him. Who were the men. Bob, 
who were talking about him 'i ” 

“ The fellers who work down to Tom Law- 
ton’s tin-shop. Bill Fuller, an’ his brother, an’ — 
Tom Lawton, he tried to stop ’em. He said 
that that Cosgrouge feller he was your friend, 
that you was n’t to blame, an’ they should n’t do 
nothin’ to make you feel bad — ! ” 

Agnes listened intently and seemed to be 
thinking hard. 

“ Of course you ’ve said nothing about this to 
any one else. Bob } ” 

He shook his head with the utmost vigor. 


237 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 

/ 

“ Thank you,” she said again. 

Bob looked perfectly radiant. 

Agnes passed on to make some change in her 
dress before going to the supper-table. As she 
arranged her hair, she paused, brush in hand, 
and gazed into the looking-glass with much the 
same expression on her face as there had been 
on Dr. Davidge’s when he had done the same 
thing an hour before. She fell into a long 
reverie over something which she met or missed 
there ; over the events of her memorable day ; 
over the fortunate departure of Arthur Cosgrove, 
and forgot she was keeping the table stand- 
ing, until little Charlie Maynard was sent to call 
her to supper. 


CHAPTER XIX. 



JACK GODFREY seemed at last 
in a fair way of realizing his greatest 
ambition. Mr. Haliburton had secured 
for him a position in the office of a Broad Street 
broker, and he decided to leave Duxberry im- 
mediately. 

He was prepared for Sharley's opposition to 
the change, and simply laughed at her entreaties 
for him to relinquish the idea. 

‘‘ One would suppose my position here was a 
fine one, Sharley,’* he said in reply to her, and 
that I was running a great risk in giving it up.” 

You have reason to believe. Jack, that Mr. 
Hall intends to give you the sole charge of the 
business when he gets ready to leave it. 
Would n’t that be infinitely better than — ” 

“ Oh, as for old Hall, his getting ready to do 
anything for me is as likely to be a matter of 
ten years, as anything else. In New York I 
shall have a settled salary, almost twice as much 
238 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


239 


as I have now, and a chance to do considerable 
outside business on my own responsibility. You 
don’t look at it in the right way, Sharley. 
You’re ‘pennywise and pound foolish.’ Now 
I believe in the adage, ‘ Nothing venture, nothing 
have.’ ” 

Evidently he believed in it as a social as well 
as financial force. In response to the note 
from AgnOvS, conveying to him her father’s mes- 
sage, he called to see her, and Agnes, feeling 
that evening particularly lonesome and home- 
sick, received him with encouraging cordiality. 

“ I don’t know how to thank you. Miss Hali- 
burton, for the great favor you have done me.” 

“ For the favor my father has done you,” she 
corrected. 

“Yet it was you who offered to ask — ” 

“ Oh, that was a very simple thing to do,” she 
said in an off-hand way. “I’d do a hundred 
times as much as that for Sharley Kenyon any 
time. She’s a perfectly splendid girl, and it 
seems such a pity for her to spend all her days 
in Duxberry.” 

“ I thank you for her as well as for myself, as 
of course yon know,” Jack hurried to say. “ I 


240 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


wish I could convince Sharley that I ’m doing 
the best possible thing for both of us. I ’in very 
sure of it myself, and I know that you think 
so. 

Oh, Sharley will think differently about it 
after a little while, when you ’ve made a success 
of your new business. I ’ve no doubt that you 
will make lots of money in a very short time, 
more than you could make in Duxberry in years 
and years.” 

‘‘ If you would talk with her about it, try to 
convince her — you’ve had so much knowledge 
of your father’s business that — ” 

‘‘ My father makes money just as easy ! And 
he ’s made a great deal for other people. They 
just send him money — those who live out of 
town — and he invests it for them. They carry 
on their own business at home at the same 
time, so that is all clear gain — all extra.” 

‘‘And they pay your father a commission.?” 
“ I suppose so.” 

“ Does he never lose .? ” 

“Oh, yes, sometimes. He has been very 
much troubled this summer, the market has 
been so unsettled, as he says. But he ’s gener- 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


241 


ally very successful. He is sure that everything 
will be all right again very soon.'' 

“When you return to New York, Miss 
Haliburton, will you allow me to call upon you } 
I assure you I shall appreciate the permission." 

“ Why, certainly. Then I can hear constantly 
from Sharley, and — " 

“ From Duxberry, were you going to say ? " 
Jack asked with a laugh. 

Agnes made a wry face. 

There was something in which she was much 
more interested, but she hardly knew how to 
introduce the subject. She felt considerable 
curiosity as to the impression made by Arthur 
Cosgrove's visit. Jack Godfrey on his part was 
even more curious concerning the circumstances 
of the ride home with Agnes and Winnie on the 
opening night of the fair, and his sudden 
departure from town the next day. 

“ What does Dr. Davidge say about your 
cousin } " he inquired. 

“He was very anxious about her at first, but 
she is improving now very fast." 

“ I suppose her visit to the fair was too much 
for her ? " 


242 DUXBERRY DOINGS. 

Yes/’ 

I never was so astonished as I was that 
night when Lon Morse came driving back with 
Mr. Cosgrove.” 

‘‘ Lon Morse ! ” Agnes repeated. 

Why, yes. Did n’t you know } ” 

Agnes did not reply. 

I could n’t imagine where they found each 
other, for I saw Mr. Cosgrove going off with 
you and Winnie, while Lon was busy with 
his own affairs. But he is a sly one, Lon. He 
and your friend got on very well together, 
though they kept pretty dark about it, for some 
reason or other, I ’m sure I don’t know what.” 

‘^Why, what made you think so ” Agnes 
asked, a good deal surprised, as Jack had sup- 
posed she would be. 

‘‘ Oh, I came across them that afternoon in 
the store, when Mr. Cosgrove was borrowing a 
little money of him, and that night Lon went 
straight to the hotel with him instead of coming 
back to the hall. He stayed some time there, 
too.” 

Agnes wanted to ask many questions, but 
she restrained the impulse. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


243 


“ Mr. Morse does n’t seem like a person whc 
would care for Ar— Mr. Cosgrove,” she said 
instead. ‘‘ I fancied he disliked him.” 

‘‘Your friend made himself very popular in 
Duxberry, Miss Haliburton. I know of only 
one person who — ” 

“ Who — what ? ” Agnes asked impulsively. 

“Excuse me,” Jack said. “I spoke hastily, 
and I — ” 

“But I can’t excuse you, Mr. Godfrey. I 
want to know what you mean.” 

“ My feeling was at any rate a disinterested 
one ; you will admit that.” 

“Your feeling!” Agnes repeated, wonder- 
ingly. “ Then it was you who — ” 

“ I had not intended to tell you this,” he re- 
plied, apparently with a great deal of embar- 
rassment. 

“ But as you have told me,” Agnes said, with 
some petulance, “ I suppose you are willing to 
explain your reason.” 

“Perhaps it is because we are all such old 
fogies in Duxberry, but for myself I could n’t 
approve of all that — of course you didn’t ap- 
prove yourself of that unprincipled trick he 


244 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


served Alick McFarland. To think of Lon 
Morse finding him the next day, half dead by 
the roadside ! No wonder it made so much 
talk in town.'' 

It was the first that Agnes had heard of the 
sequel to that night’s adventure, as Jack God- 
frey suspected. Her face was a study which he 
seemed to find peculiarly interesting. 

I suppose playing for stakes is common 
enough among city fellows, but it 's rather a 
novelty in Duxberry, especially carried on with 
such a high hand. I might say, good hand, 
also, I suppose, as he invariably won all the 
money. Perhaps I 'm too particular about some 
things, but it doesn't seem to me. Miss Hali- 
burton, that — ” 

‘‘ Well,” Agnes said, as he hesitated again. 

I cannot help regretting, if you insist upon 
my saying so, that a person so reckless of his 
own reputation and of the comfort of other 
people, should have your happiness in his keep- 
ing, Miss Haliburton, one so much his superior 
in — ” 

Agnes made an angry and impatient gesture. 

I think I understood you to say that Mr. 


DUXBERRV DOINGS, 


245 


Cosgrove made himself very popular in Dux- 
berry?’^ 

‘‘ Until the last night of his stay, Miss Hali- 
burton. He was injudicious. Perhaps some 
would not think of giving it any harder name. 
I am profoundly sorry that I have offended 
you,” he went on. ‘‘ I should not have said so 
much if you had not insisted.” 

Agnes did not seem inclined to speak just then. 

However you may judge me. Miss Halibur- 
ton, please remember that I can have but one 
reason for the feeling I have expressed. If you 
knew my high estimate of you, and my desire 
to — ” 

‘‘ I ’ll take all that for granted,” Agnes said, 
a little shortly. ‘‘How soon are you going to 
New York, Mr. Godfrey?” 

“ Not until you say you forgive me. Miss 
Haliburton.” 

Agnes laughed at the unexpected answer, 
though the instant before she had felt in any- 
thing but a laughing mood. 

“You will not detain me long, I hope,” he 
said, with the smile which so many persons 
found irresistible. 


246 DUXBERRY DOINGS, 

‘‘ Not an instant longer, if you make that the 
condition.” 

I would not offend you for my right hand, 
as you know.” 

“ Why should you } ” she responded, with a 
little toss of the head, l;nd she laughed again, 
though she did not intend to. A certain ten- 
derness in Jack Godfrey's voice struck her as 
exceedingly comical. 

But the young man was doomed to disappoint- 
ment in the plans he had formed. A letter 
came to him the next day. It was an imi:>or- 
tant looking document on a very large and very 
heavy sheet of paper, and written in a most im- 
posing hand. At least a third of the sheet was 
covered with steel-plate engraving, wherein, 
with many artistic flourishes, was set forth 
the fact that ^^Hope, Dodge, 8z: Hazard, Mem- 
bers of the New York Stock Exchange, would 
execute orders for the purchase and sale of 
Stocks on reasonable margin, also orders for 
the purchase and sale of Railroad Stocks and 
Bonds on moderate margin, customers securing 
the benefit of twenty years’ experience in the 
business.” The additional item, ‘‘Small orders 


/ 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 247 

solicited/' was added in finer letters, but even 
more extensive flourishes, very gratifying to 
Jack’s chirographical tastes. 

But the information which the letter con- 
veyed was most disagreeable and unwelcome to 
the young man, for Hope, Dodge, & Hazard 
most respectfully begged to be released from 
the promise made to Mr. John Haliburton to 
make a place for Mr. Jack Godfrey in their 
office. It had been given to the first-mentioned 
gentleman as a personal favor. Since that time 
circumstances had arisen which made it neces- 
sary for the firm to sever, not only all business, 
but all social, relations with the party in question, 
and decline to receive into their employment 
any person of his recommending. 

Jack’s first thought was naturally for himself, 
and it was some minutes before he realized 
the full significance of the letter, recalling at 
the same time Sharley’s doubt concerning Mr. 
Haliburton’s methods of transacting business. 
Evidently something was wrc^ng with the gen- 
tleman, at least in his relations with Hope, 
Dodge, & Hazard, and, later. Jack found him- 
self wondering in what way, if any, it would 


V 


248 DUX BERRY DOINGS. 

affect Agnes. His own confidence in Mr. Hali- 
burton dwindled rapidly, — and apparently in 
proportion to the imposing manner in which 
the information concerning him was set forth. 

Jack at once took the letter to Sharley, who 
read it through with a thoughtful face, and 
returned it without a word. 

‘‘ This is anything but a pleasant dose for me. 
as you may believe/’ he said in great ill-humor. 
“ To think, too, of all I ’ve said about it to the 
boys ! No doubt I shall be a laughing-stock for 
the next six months if I don’t get out of Duxberry, 
and I ’m sure I don’t see my way clear to that, 
now. If I had any acquaintances there — in 
New York, I mean — it would be very differ- 
ent.” 

“ Do you notice the expression ^ make a place ’ 
for you ? It seems you were not particularly 
needed. Jack, and I should n’t like to go into a 
situation on those terms, if I were you.” 

‘‘You wondered, I remember, how I could 
consent to take, it on any terms,” and Jack 
laughed rather disagreeably. 

“ I wish for Agnes’s sake I knew what the 
trouble is with her father. She is beginning to 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


249 


be very much worried about him. He writes 
irregularly, and she says very indefinitely. She 
grows more anxious every day.'' 

Jack gave considerable thought, as was nat- 
ural, to the letter which he had received, but 
not wholly to the disappointing words it con- 
tained. He studied the elaborate engraving at 
the head of the sheet while he meditated pro- 
foundly on a few casual words spoken by Agnes 
in his call upon her the preceding evening. 
“ They just send him money, those who live 
out of town, and he invests it for them. They 
carry on their own business at home at the 
same time, so that is all clear gain — all extra." 

Evidently Hope, Dodge, & Hazard trans- 
acted business on the same general principle. 
They had had twenty years' experience, — that 
surely was an item in their favor; and that 
small orders were solicited was an item in his, — 
provided he concluded, after sufficient delibera- 
tion, to invest some of his small savings in the 
hope of making them larger. What he had 
saved he had saved simply because he had had 
no particular use for it, not from any idea of 
thrift or economy. Jack was entirely alone in 


250 


DUXBERRY DOING^b. 


the world, and consequently independent. As 
for making any definite provision for his contem- 
plated marriage, he simply deferred all thought 
of that till a more convenient season, when he 
should be making money rapidly enough to 
make the saving worth while. 

He finally concluded — as it needed no 
prophet to foresee — that he would take his 
chances, and experiment a little in the line of 
stocks and bonds. To this end he wrote to 
Hope, Dodge, & Hazard, stating that he had 
not the least personal acquaintance with Mr. 
Haliburton, but was indebted to a member of 
the family for Mr. Haliburton’s efforts on his 
behalf. Much as he regretted the loss of a 
position, he still more deplored that gentle- 
man's misfortunes, though he had no idea of 
the nature of them. He would like to be con- 
sidered a candidate for any vacancy in the 
office, provided they felt no prejudice against 
him on Mr. Haliburton's account. He begged 
leave to enclose a check for one hundred dol- 
lars, requesting them to invest it for him ac- 
cording to their own judgment, and adding 
that he should be happy to send them small 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


251 


sums from time to time for the same pur- 
pose. 

A portion of this letter — in fact all of it but 
the last two items — he reported to Sharley, 
and it is only fair to the young man to suppose 
that his suppression of them arose from a de- 
sire to spare her any anxiety. 


CHAPTER XX. 



HNNIE MAYNARD improved rapidly, 
and at the end of three weeks was able 
to sit up, to walk about her room a 
little, and to receive a certain number of callers 
each clay. The regret at what was termed her 
pull-back” was as universal throughout the 
town as the rejoicing at her recovery, and 
manifested itself in various ways. She spoke 
of some of them to Dr. Davidge. 

‘‘ Little Nannie Lawton has sent me a pin- 
cushion, the first thing she ever made,” and she 
exhibited the shapeless little article, intended 
to be circular in form, but truthfully character- 
ized by Miss Bascom as ‘‘ wopper-jawed.” 

‘‘And such a letter as Mrs. Lawton has 
written me ! It seems that Tom has lately 
been exposed to some very strong temptations, 
which he has resisted in such a way as to make 
her feel more encouraged about him than she 
has ever been.” 

252 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


253 


And of course she gives you the sole 
credit.” 

I did not say so,” Winnie replied quickly. 

Will you let me read the letter ? ” 

Dr. Davidge touched it as it lay upon the 
table, exactly as she had done, half smiling as 
he did so. 

^‘That is not necessary, Dr. Davidge. You 
must take my word for it. But I have some 
curiosity to know more of the circumstances. 
I shall ask Mrs. Lawton when I see her.” 

“You need not wait till then, Miss Winnie, 
if you are anxious to know, and I was an eye- 
witness of one of his victories. Mr. Arthur 
Cosgrove made friends among the young men 
in town quite rapidly when he first came, by 
entertaining them at the hotel bar, and he 
more than once included Tom Lawton in his 
invitations.” 

Winnie looked very grave. 

“ There 's a new factory to be opened here 
before long,” the doctor went on, “or rather 
an old one. Business is to be started again 
down on the river. Some Boston men have 
bought the property — furniture manufacturers. 


254 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


Tom Lawton has been mentioned as candidate 
for foreman. What do you think of that } 

Oh, Dr. Davidge ! '' 

Of course some one must vouch for him. 
His ability is not the only thing to be con- 
sidered. I took the liberty of stating that you 
would be personally responsible for him if he 
were put into the position.” 

Dr. Davidge gratified himself with a long 
look at Winnie’s expressive face before he 
spoke again. 

‘^Tom will be very careful how he compro- 
mises you, and his reformation seems to be a 
certain thing now. I think you will run no 
risk in taking the responsibility mentioned, 
else I should not have spoken of it. To think 
what you — in sickness and seclusion — have 
done for that family ! ” 

If it had n’t been for you, how could I have 
done anything ” Winnie asked. ‘‘It’s a long 
time since Tom has had one of his coffee- 
lunches, as he used to call them. Agnes made 
the coffee for him the last time.” 

“ Under your direction } ” 

“ Yes, and really seemed to enjoy it ; though 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


255 

I shall never forget how disgusted she was 
before she found it was my idea to furnish him 
with it to keep him from longing for strong 
drink.” 

And it always had the desired effect ” 

‘‘ Always, and such a simple thing to do ! ” 
‘‘You are not reading much, I hope. Miss 
Winnie ” 

As the doctor spoke, he took up a book which 
lay near by. There were always books upon 
the little table, and he invariably examined any 
one of them which gave evidence of present 
use. In this way he closely followed the line of 
her tastes and thoughts, though seldom sharing 
the former or agreeing with the latter. 

It was George Macdonald’s “ Sir Gibbie ” 
that he took up this time, and a little paper-cut- 
ter lay between the leaves. It had Agnes 
Haliburton’s initials on the handle. 

“ I am not reading at all, doctor,” Winnie 
said, “ so you see I am doing even better than 
to use what little permission you gave me. My 
cousin is reading to me.” 

“ It is from the little library you and Sharley 
have set up, I see.” 


256 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


Yes/’ 

The doctor read aloud the first words which 
caught his eye, a paragraph of three lines. 

‘‘ Whatever is capable of aspiring must be 
troubled that it may wake and aspire — then 
troubled still that it may hold fast, be itself and 
aspire still.” 

‘‘ Is that a specimen of the book "i ” he asked 
with an almost imperceptible sneer. 

Winnie did not answer. The expression on 
the doctor’s face was the one she most disliked 
and dreaded. 

He turned back a few pages and read again. 

“ The will of the brooding spirit must be a 
grand one indeed to enclose so much of what 
cannot be its will, and turn all to its purpose of 
eternal good. Our knowledge of humanity, how 
much more our knowledge of the father of it, 
is moving as yet but in the first elements.” 

There were faint, blue lines, drawn along the 
margin of the pages, beside these sentences. 

“ It is thus that you indorse the sentiments 
of the author, I suppose,” the doctor observed, 
still in the same tone. 

‘‘Yes, but I should not take such a liberty 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


257 


with the library books if I had not been asked 
— having more leisure than any one else in 
our club — to mark any passages that I thought 
worth special attention, and I certainly think 
those are,” she added with emphasis. 

‘‘ And the books, after you have read them, 
go into whose hands } I really have no idea of 
the extent of your club or its patrons.” 

“ There is hardly a family in town but is more 
or less interested, from Dr. Holbrook's down. 
Tom Lawton will read this aloud to his wife 
while she sews evenings, and very likely to Tom 
also, or some parts of it, being the story of a 
boy about his age.” 

“Does your cousin find it interesting.?” the 
doctor inquired with an expressive shrug. “ Such 
passages as these, I mean particularly,” and he 
pointed to the page. 

“ You will be surprised if I say yes, but that 
is the truth. We have had many long talks 
about some of these very things, and I ’ve been 
surprised myself to see how much Agnes has 
enjoyed our discussions.” 

“ And she accepts all these — what you and 
Macdonald consider truths .? ” the doctor in- 


258 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


quired, changing the first form of his ques- 
tion. 

She does not reject them — as you do.’' 

She has not tested them as thoroughly as I 
have — and found them fit for nothing but 
rejection.” 

‘‘ I would rather have you say that to me than to 
her. You know I can make a liberal allowance.” 

‘‘ There is no necessity for any, Miss Winnie. 
You know I am sincere.” 

‘‘ I know you would like to be. You try so 
hard to persuade yourself that what you want 
to believe is the only truth.” 

And you think I do not succeed ? ” 

“ Not fully, fortunately.” 

The doctor gave another of his shrugs. The 
expression of his face had not changed, except 
to grow more gloomy as he talked. 

It is Macdonald who says, ‘ More even than 
a knowledge of the truth is a readiness to 
receive it.’ I believe that perfectly. Agnes 
hasn’t the knowledge, yet, but she wants it. 
That is the next best thing.” 

A knowledge of w+iat ? ” the doctor asked 
bluntly. ‘‘ If the question asked by Pilate hun- 


DUXBERRV DOINGS. 


259 


dreds of years ago, has ever been answered, I 
have never known it. What is truth } ” 

I cannot answer it either. Dr. Davidge ; you 
know I can’t. I simply know that some things 
must be true, because whatever is best and 
noblest in us loves them, responds to them, and 
experience proves them to be the best for us.” 

“ Suffering, trial, for instance, — all things 
that baffle and disappoint and pain and torture 
us, — those things you decide, then, to be the 
best for us ? ” 

‘‘I don’t decide it. Dr. Davidge. I said expe- 
rience proves it.” 

‘‘Yours has been such an extensive one. Miss 
Winnie ! Because you fancy ” — he laid great 
stress on that word — “ that you have somehow 
grown better by being shut up in one room for 
almost a year, you conclude — ” 

“You’re not fair ! ” Winnie protested. “ I 
can’t explain half I mean, but I feel it and I 
believe it. I suppose that is faith.” 

“For which you can thank both your inheri- 
tance and your education — and ought to, when 
it gives you so much consolation for your own 
and other people’s troubles.” 


26 o 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


^‘Yet you would take it from me, if you 
could,’* Winnie said reproachfully. 

‘‘ I ! Heaven forbid ! ” 

A different look shot into his face. He threw 
the book down and seized both her hands. 

^‘Take that back,” he said, as reproachfully 
in his turn, for it is n’t true.” 

It seems so,” she replied, with a feeble little 
smile that suggested tears near at hand. 

‘‘ I should never talk to you, my child, if I 
did not believe that your faith was too secure to 
be shaken by any words of mine.” 

^^And so it is, but I did not know that you 
thought so.” 

‘‘I should be in poor business,” the doctor 
resumed earnestly, ^Ho pull one off a strong, 
stanch ship into mid-ocean when I had not a 
raft or a chip to offer in exchange. I disagree 
with you — you know I do that honestly — to 
find out the reasons for the faith. Of course 
you can understand that } ” 

Winnie assented. 

Do you never have any other reason ? ” she 
asked gravely. 

A hope that I may some time believe as you 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


261 

do ? he said quickly, interpreting her thought. 
‘‘ I have no reason to hope for that,’' and he 
shook his head. I did once, years ago. My 
father taught me as you were taught.” 

‘‘ And then V 

‘‘ That was the theoretical. I found practical 
life a very different thing. If I am morose, 
hard, bitter to-day, it is what my life has made 
me — the result of the misery the years brought 
me. Therein my experience has been different 
from yours, but it has been a more extensive 
one. Would you like to hear it some time. Miss 
Winnie } ” he asked with startling suddenness. 

“ If you would like to tell me,” she answered, 
fact, whether you would or not. I have 
wondered about it a great deal, Dr. Davidge,” 
she concluded with frankness. 

‘‘Of course your cousin is engaged to that 
young Cosgrove ? ” the doctor asked. 

“ No.” 

“ That is better than I hoped. Has she told 
you that she told me the cause of this relapse 
of yours ? ” 

“No. ' But I took for granted that she had.” 

The doctor gave a low whistle. 


262 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


'^Why, you seem surprised.’* 

‘‘As I am — at your confidence in her.” 

“ One would suppose that my cousin Agnes 
had done you some injury,” Winnie said 
slowly. 

“Oh, I am easily prejudiced and I’m obsti- 
nate — two very bad things. Besides, I know 
her only slightly. But the way in which she 
explained the circumstances of that night cer- 
tainly increased my respect for her.” 

“ Agnes will never feel again towards Arthur 
Cosgrove as she did before that visit, I am 
almost sure. It would certainly be a calamity 
for her to marry such a man, yet she was drift- 
ing into an engagement with him, that perhaps 
nothing but this visit, disastrous as it seemed, 
would ever have prevented.” 

“ So you think there may have been some 
benefit in it, after all } ” 

“ I hope so. Agnes is very fond of him, and 
his father is a very wealthy man, occupying a 
high social position. You know these things 
are of great value in Agnes’s eyes, for she has 
been trained to regard them above all others. 
This experience has seemed to be a great shock 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


263 


and disappointment to her, yet she occasionally 
tries to argue herself into the belief that his 
faults are not such serious ones, after all. I 
don't know how it will end. I can only hope 
for the best.’' 


CHAPTER XXL 



!iXY DULLWEDGE was in trouble, 
and of an unusual kind. Floggings, no 
matter how severe, had long ceased to 
inspire any particular terror in anticipation, or 
any special regret in retrospect — as his father 
and mother realized with a sort of despair, not 
knowing of any other process under the sun 
whereby a child could be kept in restraint or 
be made to render obedience. His propen- 
sity to play truant increased in proportion 
as his fear of punishment diminished, and if 
Sharley Kenyon’s conscience had been less 
sensitive, she would have been thankful to have 
him absent himself altogether. When he did 
honor the school with his presence, he was more 
disorderly and unruly than formerly, and the 
despair of his teacher equalled that of his 
parents. 

The Dullwedge family were French Canadians, 
who had crossed the line into New Hampshire 
264 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


265 


when the Duxberry broom factory was doing a 
sweeping business. They had remained in the 
town after the factory was closed and most of 
the hands dispersed, apparently because it was 
easier to remain than to leave. They lived in a 
dilapidated little house just outside the village, 
and a home-made sign placed over the door in- 
formed the public, or that part of it which took 
sufficient notice, that Boots and shoes ” were 
''repared on Shortnotis.” Jean Dullwedge was 
really a good cobbler, — better, perhaps, than 
one might suppose from the orthographical fash- 
ion in which he announced his trade ; and enough 
business fell into his hands to keep the family 
in comparative comfort. 

There was but one child besides Fixy, a 
beautiful little girl, seven years old. Malo 
Dullwedge was a great favorite in Duxberry, 
differing as much from her brother in that 
respect as in all others. The only object on 
earth for which Fixy appeared to entertain the 
least affection was his little sister, and the 
amount which he lavished upon her seemed 
great enough to supply all deficiencies in other 
directions. 


266 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


Sharley Kenyon, her day's work just finished, 
sat at her desk in a dejected attitude and appar- 
ently too much absorbed in her own thoughts to 
hear a shuffling noise upon the doorstep. At 
any rate she did not look up until a coarse, 
grimy hand was laid on her arm. Fixy Dull- 
wedge stood close beside her — his first appear- 
ance on the premises for three days. 

Oh, 'f you please. Miss Kenyon ! " 

Sharley was startled at the expression on the 
boy's face. 

‘‘Why, Fixy, what is it she exclaimed. 

“ Male's sick," he answered, with a dry sob. 
“ She does n't know me, and her eyes are so 
bright and she talks so queer. Oh ! Oh ! " 

The child was remarkably delicate in health, 
for which reason she had never been sent to 
school, but it was the first sickness she had ever 
had, so far as Fixy's recollection Extended. 

“ When was she taken } " Sharley asked. 

“ Yesterday. Father licked me when I got 
home last night, and would n't let me see her ; 
and I ran away early this morning, and Neddie 
Thomas said she was awful bad and when I got 
home she did n't know me, she didn't know me. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


267 


Miss Kenyon,” and Fixy’s grief was most dis- 
tressing. Can’t you just go and see her, 
Miss Kenyon ? Mebbe she’ll know you.” 

Sharley needed no urging. The boy’s anxiety 
would have been cause enough for her going, 
even if she had not been fond enough of little 
Malo to be anxious on her own account. She 
put on her hat at once, locked up the school- 
house and started across the fields with 
Fixy. 

Has the doctor seen Malo she asked. 

‘‘ He ain’t home. He ’s gone somewhere. 
He’s a-coming soon as he gets back.” 

Little Malo Dullwedge was very ill indeed. 
Sharley was sure of that from the first look at 
her. Jean Dullwedge sat close beside the bed 
with a stolid, hopeless expression of countenance, 
while his wife, terrified and inefficient, bustled 
about the room in vain attempts to relieve the 
sufferer. 

The child appeared to recognize Sharley, 
holding out her hands as if in mute appeal to 
be taken from her uncomfortable bed. Sharley 
lifted her in her arms, the child nestled down 
upon her breast and gradually fell into a 


268 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


troubled sleep. Fixy stood near by, a look of 
the profoundest gratitude upon his face. 

‘‘ Now, Fixy,’' Sharley said at last, I shall 
stay here till the doctor comes, and I want 
you to go and tell my mother where I am and 
that I may not be home till late.” 

The boy departed with alacrity. 

It was several hours before Dr. Davidge 
appeared. He had been suddenly called some 
distance out of town, and it was late before he 
reached home. Fixy was there again when he 
arrived, too impatient to wait for him elsewhere, 
and without a moment’s delay the doctor accom- 
panied him to his own house. He was prepared 
to find Sharley there, but from the account 
which Fixy gave of Malo’s illness he greatly 
regretted that she had gone. 

His fears were not without foundation, and a 
certain expression in his face roused Sharley’s 
suspicions also. 

‘‘ How long have you been here } ” he im 
quired. 

‘‘Since half-past four.” 

It was then nine o’clock. 

“ And she has been in your lap how long ? ” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


269 


Ever since I came, till an hour ago. I felt 
a little faint and went out and walked around 
a few minutes. I took her again as soon as I 
came in.’’ 

‘‘ Humph ! ” 

She was quiet in no other way. She has 
suffered so much at intervals.” 

‘‘ She will suffer less now. Her face was not 
like this, I suppose, when you first came } ” 

His tone was a significant one. Sharley 
shook her head. 

‘‘ I am more sorry than I can tell to find you 
here, Sharley, but it ’s too late for regrets. Of 
course you know that you cannot go back to 
school at present } ” 

Yes, Sharley had thought of it, as the gravity 
of her face showed. 

I shall stay here instead,” she said slowly. 

That is the best way now.” 

‘‘ I shall not allow it ! I positively forbid it ! ” 
the doctor exclaimed hotly. 

Sharley gave a comprehensive glance around 
the room. It spoke as eloquently as any words 
could do, of its poverty and forlornness, the in- 
capacity, fear, and loneliness of its inmates. 


270 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


I shall stay, doctor,’’ she repeated, her eyes 
resting at last on the pitiful little face upon the 
pillow. Don’t make it harder by opposing 
me. My duty seems to me plain enough.” 

‘‘You have duties in other directions, it ap- 
pears to me,” was the doctor’s grim reply. 

“ But this has been given me instead. I did 
not seek it or expect it, and you say yourself 
that I cannot go back to school. There is only 
one thing for me to do now.” 

“And who can take your place } ” 

Sharley pondered a moment. 

“I would rather Agnes Haliburton would 
take it than anybody else. She has spent 
several days with me, and knows something 
about the school. She has more time, too, 
than Annie Bond or any of the girls I could 
ask.” 

“ Do you think it ’s likely she would do you 
such a favor } ” 

“Very likely, doctor. You know I have a 
better opinion of her than you have. She’s 
one of the most kind-hearted girls I ever 
knew.” 


“ And as selfish as — ” 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


271 


‘‘ She does not know that she ’s selfish. I *m 
sure she won’t be selfish about this.” 

‘‘ She must have improved very rapidly of 
late ! ” 

‘‘ She has certainly changed a good deal since 
she came to Duxberry, though it ’s only three 
months ago. That is Winnie Maynard’s doings. 
I should think you might have seen something 
of it, Dr. Davidge.” 

‘‘I use no spiritual microscope, Miss Shar- 
ley.” 

A buggy drove up to the door. The doctor 
stepped to it quickly, went out, and closed it 
behind him. He was gone several minutes. 

‘‘ Lon Morse has come for you, Sharley,” he 
said on his return. I have explained the cir- 
cumstances, and told him your decision. But it 
is not too late for you to reconsider it,” he 
added hastily. 

Sharley shook her head. 

“ I would like to send some messages by him 
to my mother and Agnes.” 

will take them to him. You had better 
stay here, if you still insist upon having your 
own way.” 


272 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


Lon Morse drove away a few minutes after, 
not so rapidly as he had come, and if Sharley's 
heart sank within her at the sound of the de- 
parting wheels, it was not to be wondered at. 
She had been taken at her word, and she be- 
lieved the word a necessary one. She believed, 
too, as she had said, that her duty was plain 
enough ; still she did not find it any less hard on 
that account. It was nearly midnight before 
Dr. Davidge left the house. Malo had fallen 
asleep, — a condition in which her father had 
been for some time. Fixy sat perfectly still 
beside the bed, watching his sister with wide- 
open, sleepless eyes. Mrs. Dullwedge in the 
kitchen was vigorously at work upon some 
neglected washing, and Sharley was at liberty 
to return to the train of thought which had 
been so strangely interrupted that afternoon. 
Another one, however, took its place for a while. 
The two were finally blended, and it was not 
until the daybreak of a dull, rainy morning 
came creeping into the room, that Sharley 
closed her heavy eyes and unconsciously 
dropped her head upon little Male’s pillow. 

She had sent no message to Jack Godfrey. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


273 


Lon Morse pondered on the fact as he drove 
home, and settled several things in his own way 
before he reached the end of his trip. But the 
settlement was in no way conducive to a happy 
state of mind, if one might judge from the 
expression of his face. After putting up his 
horse, he went rather reluctantly to make the 
family acquainted with the condition of things 
at the Dullwedge cottage and Sharley’s resolu- 
tion, after which he locked himself into his own 
room, pulled a great heap of books about him, 
and sat up half the night. 


CHAPTER XXII. 



^ON MORSE was at the Maynard farm- 
house early the next morning. Miss 
Bascom was busy in her preparations 
for breakfast, and to her he related as briefly 
as possible the experience of the preceding 
night, and the request which Sharley had sent 
to Agnes. 

Miss Bascom's feelings appeared too deep to 
reach the surface in words. She tied her apron- 
strings into a harder knot, compressed her lips 
in a firmer fashion, and mashed the potatoes 
with most expressive energy. Lon moved to- 
wards the door. 

“You’ll please tell her as soon as you can, 
Miss Angeline,” he said as he prepared to go. 

“ I thought you were to tell her,” she re- 
sponded, transferring her attentions from the 
potatoes to the coffee-pot. “ Breakfast will be 
ready in a minute. You must stay, and tell her 
yourself.” 

274 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


275 


‘‘ I would rather not,” he said a little stiffly, 
'‘and as it ’s not necessary — ” 

“ You promised Sharley, did n’t you ? ” 

But there was no need to discuss a point 
which was settled by the appearance of Agnes 
herself. She came hurriedly into the kitchen, 
with a soft white shawl wrapped around her 
shoulders, and shivered a little as she ap- 
proached the fire. 

“ Has it rained all night, aunt Angeline } ” 
she asked, not seeing that there was any one 
else present. 

“ Pretty nigh. I set the fire going in the 
parlor this morning, it was so cold. You can 
take Mr. Morse in there. He’s come on an 
errand.” 

Agnes looked up surprised, and, after an in- 
stant’s hesitation, turned and led the way out 
of the kitchen. Lon Morse followed her. 

“ It ’s a very disagreeable errand that I have 
come upon,” he said, not taking the chair to 
which she motioned him, while she seated her- 
self. “ Little Malo Dullwedge is very sick. 
Sharley went to the house before she knew of 
the contagion — yesterday afternoon — and is 


276 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


going to stay. Of course it would not be safe 
for her to go back to school, even if she left 
there, and she asks of you the great favor of 
taking her place for a little while.*' 

Agnes did not immediately reply. Her eyes 
opened wide with surprise and terror, and her 
first thought was — naturally — a selfish one. 
Tl was not to be supposed that she should take 
kindly to so startling a proposition, so suddenly 
made. A more generous impulse took its place 
after a moment’s consideration. 

‘‘ If I could do it — if I knew more about 
it,” she said, with unusual timidity. 

‘‘ Shari ey has great confidence in your abil- 
ity, Miss Haliburton.” 

“ Because she knows so little about it ; noth- 
ing at all, in fact,” and Agnes tried to laugh, 
which was evidently as much of an effort as her 
endeavor to appear at her ease. It was the 
first time that she had seen Lon Morse since 
her memorable drive with him on the first 
night of the county fair. It was anything but 
a pleasant experience to recall, and it was any- 
thing but agreeable to face the hero of that 
adventure. Privately she had often wished 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


277 


that it might be her good fortune to get away 
from Duxberry without meeting him again. 

‘‘ The pupil who is hardest to manage will 
not be there to trouble you, you know. Poor 
Fixy ! He is quite broken down over this 
affliction.’' 

But I ’ve never attempted to teach anyone, 
not even a single child — and to begin where 
Sharley leaves off — ” 

Agnes stopped abruptly, as if it were impos- 
sible to find words with which to finish the 
sentence. 

‘‘I — ” Lon began, then stopped as abruptly. 

Agnes looked at him in a helpless sort of 
way, and as if longing for some suggestion. 

I was about to say,” he resumed, as if still 
in doubt whether he had better say it, “ that 
perhaps I could give you some help myself. I 
had the school several days last spring when 
Mrs. Kenyon was sick. I know all the chil- 
dren, and — ” 

“ Oh, Mr. Morse, if you only would ! Of 
course, whatever you do for me would be help- 
ing Sharley.” 

Of course. I would do it all myself if I 


2/8 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


had the time, and enjoy it too, but it's impos- 
sible to leave the farm-work just at present.” 

‘‘ I suppose I 'm to go this morning ? ” and 
Agnes glanced out of the window rather rue- 
fully. 

I am sorry you have n't a pleasanter day 
for the beginning of your work. But you will 
very likely have a smaller attendance on ac- 
count of the rain.” 

‘‘Then I shall be reconciled to the weather,” 
Agnes replied. “ Poor Sharley ! What a dole- 
ful day it will be for her.’' 

Agnes Haliburton was not given to spiritual 
analysis, of herself or of anybody else, and it was 
well too, no doubt, that she was not conscious 
of any special growth in grace. But in that 
moment of self-forgetfulness and sympathy she 
reached greater heights in spiritual develop- 
ment than she had ever before attained. 

Lon Morse hurried away, and Agnes ate her 
breakfast in a most absorbed frame of mind. 
Miss Bascom was conscious of some curiosity 
as she watched her, while Bob Gridley and the 
Maynard children were delighted at the infor- 
mation that Agnes was to “ keep school ” — 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


279 


not that they loved Sharley less, or Agnes 
more, but change and variety are as acceptable 
to the younger members of society as to their 
elders, both of whom are sometimes equally 
illogical. 

Better hitch up and take you over, had n’t 
I, Agnes } ” her uncle asked, with his kindly 
smile. 

“ Oh no, indeed, uncle Nathan,” she answered 
hurriedly. “ It does n’t rain very hard, and it’s 
not at all windy. Besides, I want to get my 
courage up on the way ; and I ’d better begin 
to be brave as soon as possible.” 

^‘You tell little Ellen Barker if she’s at 
school to-day,” Miss Bascom remarked, ‘‘that 
I ’ll be at her mother’s next week, sure. Win- 
nie is so much better I can leave by that time, 
and it ’s such a comfort, Agnes, to see you roll- 
ing up your sleeves to go ±0 work ! ” 

Agnes, more literally putting on water-proof 
and rubbers in her cousin’s room, seemed to 
grow more and more excited at the prospect 
of her undertaking. 

“ I only hope I can get along without any 
help from your pompous Alonzo Morse, Win- 


28 o 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


nie. He's just as disagreeable in his way as 
Dr. Davidge is in his." 

Why, Agnes, they are no more alike 
than — " 

I did n't say they were alike, but they can 
both be disagreeable, for all that. Both of 
them say in manner, though not in words, ‘ I 
disapprove of you, but I 'm obliged to tolerate 
you.' Now is n't that pleasant ! " and Agnes 
made a wry face. Your Alonzo Morse isn't 
quite so bad as the dear doctor, but then he 's 
not quite so old. Age has its privileges, you 
know. If Alonzo were as old as the doctor, I 
should be annihilated — nowhere," and she 
gave an expressive fling to the veil she was 
winding about her hat. 

‘‘Whom do you mean by ‘ Alonzo ’ } " Winnie 
inquired, with a merry laugh. 

“ Why, Mr. Morse. Whom else should I 
mean } " and Agnes looked up in genuine sur- 
prise. “ Far be it from me to indulge in the 
‘ Lon ' liberty. I tremble to think of its pos- 
sible consequences, should he ever find it out." 

“ But his name is n’t Alonzo, my dear cousin. 
I never knew that you thought it was. It 's 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


281 


Leonidas, and he’s just the fellow to have the 
name of that grand old Greek. I wish you 
knew Lon Morse as we know him, Agnes, here 
in Duxberry.” 

“’T is n’t at all necessary. Your apprecia- 
tion is sufficient. There, I ’m bundled up at 
last,” and, as she faced her cousin, Winnie 
thought she had never seen her look more ani- 
mated or more lovely, — and yet Saratoga and 
its society was never farther away from her 
thoughts than at that moment. 

“ I actually believe you ’re anxious to try it, 
after all,” Winnie said to her. 

‘‘ I don’t know but I am, Winnie. There ’s 
a novelty about it, that ’s one thing. And, posi- 
tively, Winnie, I don’t suppose you ’ll believe 
me, but I have felt sort of ashamed of myself 
ever so many times when you ’ve made me 
realize what a drone in the hive I ’ve always 
been.” 

I ’ve made you realize ! Why, Agnes ! ” 

“ Oh, such a thing as that don’t need words. 
You know well enough what I mean. Where 
can those children be They said they ’d let 
me know when it was time to start.” 


282 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


The question was answered in effect before it 
was half spoken. A skirmish outside the door 
revealed the presence of the children, and hinted 
at some slight difference of opinion between 
them. Agnes threw it open with a suddenness 
which struck consternation to their contending 
souls. 

‘‘ Can’t I carry the umbrella, cousin Agnes 
little Mary Maynard asked, the first to recover 
herself. 

‘‘ I wanter myself,” Bob remarked, clutching 
at it with evident determination. 

‘‘ Mary ’s only a girl, and I ’m most as tall as 
you are, so now,” Charlie replied to him. 

‘‘Where’s the other umbrella, Charlie.^” 
Winnie asked, following Agnes to the door. 

“ Bob broke it yesterday licking Kump,” 
Charlie answered, with amazing promptness. 

“ I guess Lon Morse is cornin’ for you. Miss 
Harry Burton,” Bob announced, his attention 
diverted by the sound of wheels which the next 
moment rolled up to the door. 

“ It ’s your Greek hero, sure enough,” Agnes 
said, under her breath, to her cousin. “ He ’s 
just a little too officious. I could have walked 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


283 


as well as not. Remember,” she added, with 
great solemnity, ‘‘you're to have a letter from 
father for me when I get back. It 's surer than 
ever to come to-day,” and kissing her good-by 
she went out to the front door. 

Lon stood ready to help her into the buggy 
as if it were something to which they had both 
been accustomed all the days of their lives. 
Agnes became instantly so conscious of this 
fact that it was with a little embarrassment that 
she said, — 

“You need not have taken all this trouble, 
Mr. Morse.” 

“ I never let Sharley walk in the rain when 
I can drive her over,^’ Lon replied, and his tone 
confirmed the impression he had given her, 
that he was showing her no unusual attention. 
“ Now scud along, youngsters,” he added to the 
boys, while he took little Mary Maynard into 
his lap and drove as fast as possible to the 
school-house. 

There were indications that he had been there 
before, that morning, for a brisk fire was burn- 
ing in the stove, and the room seemed very cosy 
in contrast to the bleak, raw air outside. Agnes, 


284 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


while wondering at his thoughtfulness, almost 
resented it, as implying some obligation; yet, 
after all, she reflected, the fire was quite as 
much for the children’s comfort as for her own. 

Lon waited until all the pupils who would be 
likely to present themselves that morning had 
arrived, and, as was natural, had looked with a 
good deal of surprise at the two substitutes 
filling their teacher’s place — neither of them 
able to usurp it in the young hearts. 

‘‘ Now, children,” Lon began without the least 
formality. ^‘You will be sorry to hear that 
little Malo Dullwedge is sick, and that Miss 
Kenyon is helping to take care of her. She 
will not come back to school till Malo is better. 
She has asked her friend. Miss Haliburton, who 
is Miss Winnie Maynard’s cousin, you know, 
to take her place here, and she has been kind 
enough to do it. Of course you will treat her as 
you know Miss Kenyon would like to have you } ” 

He made his statement in an interrogative 
form which elicited a hearty, — in fact, a some 
what deafening — shout of ‘‘Yes, sir! ’’which 
left no doubt of the sincerity of their intentions. 
Lon did not leave the school-house until he had 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


285 


set all the classes to work, and made out a little 
memorandum to assist Agnes in assigning their 
lessons for the next day. She was sorry that 
it was valuable help instead of interference, and 
that she was obliged to acknowledge it as such. 

Her first day was a successful one, but she 
was inclined to believe that the fact was due to 
the efforts she had made to entertain the children. 
In spite of their good intentions, they were not 
invariably quiet, attentive, or studious ; and 
Agnes, in alarm at the possibility of an out- 
break, taxed her ingenuity to the utmost to 
prevent such a calamity. She experienced the 
greatest possible relief when the school was 
finally dismissed. The rain was over, the day 
had grown brighter. Agnes walked home with 
the children, — Bob in undisputed possession of 
the now useless umbrella, — feeling that though 
she had effectually thrown a sop to Cerberus 
that day, the monster might not always be so 
easily appeased. 

Winnie was impatiently awaiting her. She 
had missed her that day more than she could 
tell, which was not strange, perhaps, considering 
that they had been inseparable companions for 


286 


DUX BERRY DOINGS, 


SO many weeks. She was anxious to hear, too, 
whether or not she had been successful in her 
new field, though of that she had little doubt. 
And to Agnes’s great joy a letter from her father 
lay on Winnie’s little table. 

What can be the reason that he ’s not 
written before ! ” she exclaimed, as she seized it 
and tore open the envelope. Of course you ’ll 
let me read it first, Winnie, though I know 
you ’re dying to hear all that ’s been going on 
to-day.” 

It was Agnes’s habit to be polite, or what she 
considered so, under all circumstances. Her 
definition of politeness might easily have been 
improved upon, and made to include civility to 
a number of persons who received no particular 
consideration. It was nothing new for her to 
excuse herself while reading a letter, but it 
struck Winnie as something quite new for her 
to think of other’s comfort or curiosity while so 
doing. To Winnie the slight fact was pleasantly 
significant. 

The letter was a very long one, and, to 
Winnie’s further surprise, Agnes did not wait 
to read it all through, contenting herself with 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


287 


glancing it over, reading sentences here and 
there, and folding it up, rather than keep Winnie 
waiting. 

It ’s a regular love-letter, too,” she said 
joyously. ‘‘He's been too busy to write, diC. 
not realize how long a time it had been or hov^ 
anxious I was, and he ’s sent me this,” she con- 
cluded, holding up a check for thirty-five dollars. 

The relation of her day's experience was very 
entertaining to Winnie, and the two girls laughed 
so much and so heartily that Miss Bascom put 
her head into the door to enjoy the fun with 
them. “ I can't come in,” she said, “ and I 
couldn't sit down if I did,” but somehow she 
managed to accomplish both within a minute or 
two and hear the end of Agnes's report. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 



jITTLE Malo Dullwedge lay very sick 
for nearly two weeks, at the end of 
which time she passed away from all 
suffering. Before that time her mother had 
succumbed to the fearful disease, and within 
twenty-four hours after the burial of the little 
one, Fixy himself found his grief somewhat 
dulled by his own prostration. 

They were dark days for the family and for 
Sharley Kenyon. When that dreadful present 
had receded far into the past, she used to look 
back upon it occasionally with profound wonder 
at her own endurance. She had no help except 
from Dr. Davidge, who gave liberally of his 
time, day and night. Lon Morse submitted 
with very ill grace to his orders when he imper- 
atively forbade him rendering any assistance. 
Though longing to be of use from the first, he 
had not contended the point, until Fixy fell ill 
also. In spite of the doctor’s orders he would 
288 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


289 


have taken his place at the boy's bedside, had 
not Sharley herself joined the opposition, and 
declared herself able to get along alone. It 
was a great trial to the young man, who was 
not easily shaken in his opinions, and who firmly 
believed that they were both making a serious 
mistake. 

The doctor was in daily communication with 
him, and thereby kept Sharley informed of what- 
ever it was necessary or interesting for her to 
know. Lon in his turn went regularly to 
Winnie, who depended upon him for news of 
her friend, and occasionally to the school-house, 
in which Agnes was finding considerable up-hill 
work. 

She had nearly finished Sir Gibbie " not- 
withstanding her new employment, sitting up 
nights to read it, and enjoying equally as much 
the repetition of it in the little time she found 
to read aloud to her cousin. Novel-reading was 
no new diversion to Agnes, but it certainly was 
something new for her not to skip the poky 
parts,” as she expressed it ; meaning thereby 
the moralizing and philosophizing in which 
many novel writers indulge. She had marked 


2go 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


a few passages independently, curious to know 
if Winnie would in her turn call special attention 
to them, and in one of them had found a thought 
upon which she pondered considerably. The 
one secret of life and development is not to 
devise and plan, but to fall in with the forces at 
work — to do every moment’s duty aright — 
and let come, not what will, for there is no such 
thing, but what the eternal Thought wills for 
each of us, has intended in each of us from the 
first.” 

Life and hope and happiness were young and 
strong in Agnes Haliburton’s heart. Desire 
and anticipation had painted glowing pictures 
of a future which she was impatient for the 
years to. bring. These were none the less beau- 
tiful and entrancing because vaguely defined. 
The colors were all there, lavish and brilliant, 
and the principal objects clearly enough out- 
lined. It was to her a new idea that human 
beings had, after all, less to do with the order- 
ing of their own lives than appeared on the 
surface of them. It was not a pleasant thought, 
but she was philosophical enough to perceive 
that, if it were a fact, the quicker she recognized 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


291 


it and reconciled herself to it, the better it 
would be for her. Her long talks with Winnie 
had somewhat prepared her for this line of 
thought, and intellectually she was herself 
bright and active, though superficial. Her 
powers of observation were turned in new 
directions, and whatever she saw or recalled 
helped to indorse the new truths which were 
presented to her. For the first time in her 
life Agnes Haliburton had really begun to 
think. 

Another little sentence in the same book 
struck her forcibly, perhaps from its oddity, 
for at first she did not fully comprehend it. 
‘‘Our ills are all easier to help than we know 
— except the one ill of a central self, which 
God himself finds it hard to help.” That a 
“central self” could be an objectionable thing 
seemed at first thought absurd, and it was not 
until she had carried her difficulty to Winnie 
that she comprehended the grand scope and 
truth of the words. Selfishness was something 
she understood — nothing could be easier of 
definition, nothing was more common and con- 
temptible. So she honestly told herself. Yet 


292 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


her definition — though the usual one — was 
as narrow and shallow as the worldly and super- 
ficial experience from which it sprang. To 
give away the larger half of the piece of cake 
or stick of candy ; to wait patiently while 
others are served at table ; to yield a comfort- 
able seat for one less easy — this is the ele- 
mentary form of instruction in the matter of 
unselfishness. It has reference merely to the 
physical and material phases of life, as all ele- 
mentary teaching must have. With how many 
persons does it ever extend beyond — into the 
moral and spiritual existence ? 

Agnes had never felt better satisfied with 
herself than after her explanation and apology 
to Dr. Davidge. It was a great moral victory, 
great in proportion to the effort it required, 
and the fact that it was the first time in her 
life that she had ever fought such a battle with 
herself. But this satisfaction was not so great 
that she was willing to purchase more of it at 
the same price. How to make to Lon Morse 
proper acknowledgment of his service to her 
in various ways — particularly on that most 
memorable night — was one of her most trouble- 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


293 


some meditations, and no amount of thought 
suggested any way out of the difficulty, except 
that of straightforward speech. She grew more 
uncomfortable about it as the days went on 
and she saw him frequently. 

He stopped at the school-house one after- 
noon, just as Agnes was leaving it, to bring a 
black-board eraser he had made for her ; a neat 
little affair of pine wood and sheep’s wool, with 
which Agnes was particularly pleased. How 
could he have discovered her aversion to chalk- 
dust, she wondered. Nobody but herself knew 
that it made her shiver to touch the cloth 
which held it. 

As he raised his hat and started to cross the 
fields, Agnes called after him, — 

“ If you please, Mr. Morse.” 

He turned around quickly. 

Agnes was locking the school-house door. 
She did not turn as she spoke to him ; she 
could not have said it while facing him. 

I would like to have you walk with me a 
little way, if you can spare the time.” 

“With pleasure.” 

It was a dreadful proposition to come from 


294 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


her, she thought desperately, but it would be 
easier so. She always flinched from the young 
man’s keen gray eyes. She need not look at 
him if he were beside her. 

“ I have long wanted to thank you,” she said 
with difficulty, ‘^for your kindness that night 
when — ” 

‘^If you would please not speak of it, Miss 
Haliburton ! ” 

The tone of appeal in his voice was unmistak- 
able. One might have supposed that he was 
the offender, brought unexpectedly to punish- 
ment. 

‘‘But I must speak of it, Mr. Morse,” she 
hurried on, a tone of determination in hers. 
“ I shall never be easy until I do. I was very, 
very grateful to you that night, though I knew 
afterwards that there was no reason for my 
being so frightened.” 

The end of Agnes’s sentence seemed to be 
more satisfactory to her companion than the be- 
ginning of it had been, and he forbore to reply. 

“I have heard some things since that time,” 
Agnes went on, “ that have annoyed me a great 
deal. My friend who visited me here is accus- 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


29s 


tomed to a city life, and I have no doubt seemed 
to Duxberry people somewhat reckless and — 
But he is certainly the last person to wilfully do 
any one a wrong. I wish you would please tell 
me about Alick McFarland, Mr. Morse, where 
you found him, and if it is true that — '' 

Really there is nothing to tell. Miss Hali- 
burton. His horse’s leg was hurt in some way, 
and Alick was on the road all night.” 

But I don’t suppose that would have hap- 
pened if — ” 

‘‘ I cannot see in what way you were to blame, 
Miss Haliburton.” 

“ Mr. Cosgrove plays cards a good deal. All 
the young men whom I know, do. Ladies play 
as well as gentlemen, and occasionally for 
money. But of course, his doing it here was a 
very different thing. It would n’t be thought 
anything of in New York at some of the parties 
we ’ve been to.” 

There was something singularly expressive in 
Lon Morse ’s response. 

« Very likely!” 

But I particularly want to know if he bor- 
rowed any money of you, and — ” 


296 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


What sneaking scoundrel told you that, Miss 
Haliburton ? ” 

Lon Morse’s voice was tremulous with rage. 

I beg your pardon,” he said, before she had 
time to answer him, but I can’t take back the 
words if they are rough.” 

‘‘Then it is true ! ” she exclaimed. 

Lon Morse made no reply. Agnes, glancing 
at him, saw his face darkened by a heavy frown. 

“To make mischief is quite as bad — I’m not 
sure that it ’s not a great deal worse — than to 
borrow money, under any circumstances. I ’m 
sorry you should have been annoyed in this way, 
and I resent any interference with what is 
strictly my own business. I ’m afraid I know 
to whom I am indebted for it.” 

The bitterness in his tone corresponded to 
the frown on his face. Agnes thought it best 
to discontinue what seemed to be as unpleasant 
a subject to him as it was to her. 

“ Does Dr. Davidge give you no idea when 
Sharley will be let out of jail.^^” she asked. 
“She mu»t be in worse than solitary confine- 
ment.” 

“ I ’m afraid it will be a long time yet,” he 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


297 


replied, and there was something in his tone 
which roused in Agnes the very suspicion he 
was anxious not to excite. 

Oh, mercy ! You don’t mean — it can’t be 
possible — ” 

I will tell you the exact truth. Miss Halibur- 
ton, now that I have been so stupid as to give 
you a hint of it. Sharley was taken quite ill 
day before yesterday — fortunately Mrs. Dull- 
wedge is able to take care of her, for her own 
sickness was slight — and the doctor hopes that 
Sharley may escape as easily. Of course it is 
doubtful, but there can be no harm in hoping 
for the best. Sharley is anxious that no one 
shall know of it — at present. She is particu- 
larly desirous to spare her mother. But I was 
wondering yesterday whether I ought not to tell 
you, for fear of what may come.” 

Agnes could not speak. She was wild with a 
great terror for Sharley, a great disappointment 
for herself. She had been in charge of the 
school for five weeks, and it sometimes seemed 
as if the work grew harder with every day that 
passed. It certainly was not strange that with 
no training and no experience she should have 


298 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


found countless difficulties in her undertaking. 
The pupils became naturally somewhat demor- 
alized under this change of leadership, and in 
exact proportion to Sharley’s ability as a teacher, 
did Agnes find herself at a disadvantage. All 
the pride and spirit which she possessed — and 
she had a great deal — was called into play by the 
demands of the position. She sometimes felt a 
profound satisfaction that so far she had not 
yielded to her discouragement, nor betrayed it 
to any one except her cousin Winnie. 

But to continue this heroic struggle indefi- 
nitely — it was an appalling prospect! For a 
week she had daily expected that a time would 
be set for Sharley’s return and her own release, 
and for several minutes Sharley’s danger was in 
her eyes of less consequence than her own dis- 
comfort. 

“ Of course this will trouble you some,” Lon 
resumed after quite an interval of silence. It 
troubles me a great deal, though I know very 
well that nothing was ever prevented or ever 
accomplished by worry.” 

‘‘It’s not wholly on Sharley’s — Oh, Mr. 
Morse, I know it ’s dreadfully selfish in me, but 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 299 

it does n't seem as if I could go on with the 
school another single day ! There ! " 

It was out, finally, and to Lon Morse, too, the 
last person in Duxberry to whom, half an hour 
before, she would have made such a revelation. 

‘‘ I can't wonder that you feel so," Lon said 
very quietly. I know how hard it has been 
for you." 

He know ! How did it happen that he knew } 
He seemed to know a great many things that 
Agnes had not suspected him of knowing. 

You've been very kind and very courageous. 
Sharley appreciates it fully, so does Dr. Davidge 
and — This morning Dr. Holbrook told me 
that he thought you had done wonders under 
the circumstances." 

“ That was good of him." 

Agnes tried to laugh, but the attempt ended 
in a little gasp. 

He has been pretty constant in his attend- 
ance, hasn't he " 

Oh, yes. He evidently thought at first 
that Sharley had lost her wits when she pro- 
posed my taking her place." 

‘‘ I really think. Miss Haliburton, that no one 


300 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


could have done any better than you have — I 
mean no one who was as new to the business as 
you were. I should be very sorry, on Sharley’s 
account, ta have you give it up now.’’ 

“ Oh, I ’ll try to stand it a while longer,” and 
Agnes’s tone was a very dismal one. I hope 
I ’m really not quite so selfish as I seem, and if 
I am, this will be a very good thing for me — a 
sort of penance, you know. Poor Sharley ! 
How glad she ’d be to take her old place 
again.” 

‘‘ And we to see her in it. This has been a 
great trial to her friends. I hope it is not going 
to prove an even greater one. I really don’t see 
how her mother and the family have got along 
without her. No outsider can possibly under- 
stand how her mother and all the children rely 
upon her.” 

I can imagine it, at any rate. Sharley ’s a 
regular soldier. She’s got a sort of Joan of 
Arc element about her. All the girls at school 
used to go to her for advice and help and 
everything, and do exactly as she told them, 
too. And she 's so bright and jolly all the 
time ! ” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


301 


“ No one knows better than I do what Sharley 
Kenyon is/' Lon Morse said quietly. 

There was no mistaking the depth of feeling 
in the simple words. To Agnes they gave a 
feeling of absolute awe. There was nothing 
more said between them, and in a few minutes 
he left her at her uncle's house. 

Winnie saw them coming down the road 
together. She noticed the flush on Agnes's face 
and a certain excitement in her manner as she 
came into the room. It seemed a pleasurable 
one — an innocent subterfuge on Agnes's part. 

‘‘You've had a pleasant walk," Winnie ex- 
claimed, in a satisfied tone. 

“ And with your old Greek hero — think of 
that ! " and Agnes waved her hat around her 
head. “ Once more the gods walk with mortals 
— and it is to be hoped that the mortals are 
sufficiently grateful." 

She drew a little low rocking-chair close to 
the window, but it could not be possible that it 
was to look after the tall figure striding so fast 
across the fields. 

“ How have things gone to-day, Agnes } " her 
cousin asked her. 


302 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


Agnes did not seem to hear the question. At 
any rate she did not answer it, but asked one 
herself. 

Did you ever suspect, Winnie, that Lon 
Morse was very fond of Sharley Kenyon 1 ’’ 

‘‘ Why, Agnes ! 

‘‘ I ’ve thought so a long time, and now I feel 
almost sure of it. It's just an awful pity any 
way. He 's too nice a fellow to — I always did 
wonder what Jack Godfrey — " There she 
came to a sudden stop. 

“You used to admire Jack Godfrey," Win- 
nie returned, with a sly smile. 

Agnes made a wry face. 

“ Of course he 's fine-looking and very much 
of a gentleman, but somehow — ” 

“And Lon is a little more tolerable than 
you supposed — is n't he } " 

“ Why, yes — though that is not saying a 
great deal. But you have not answered my 
question, Winnie. What do you think " 

“ I 'm afraid you 're right, Agnes," was the 
reluctant admission. 

“ You 've thought so, too ? " 

“ Yes." 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


303 


Do you suppose Sharley suspects it ? ” 

'' Not in the least — fortunately.’' 

I don’t know about its being ^fortunately.’ 
I think it’s all wrong. I don’t believe Sharley 
cares half so much about Jack Godfrey as she 
ought to — there ! And Lon Morse just de- 
spises him — I’m sure of that.” 

“ I ’m surprised that you should get that 
idea, Agnes. He certainly could n’t have said 
so.” 

Why not .? ” 

'' Because it would not be in the least like 
him.” 

‘‘ I suppose you know that he does n’t like 
— that he’s jealous of Jack Godfrey.?” 

I know he never liked him, even before 
Sharley’s engagement, but then they could n’t 
be expected to have much in common. Lon 
is always very careful what he says about any- 
body.” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 



^ ITTLE Mary Maynard was ailing ; 
slightly, but enough to seriously dis- 
turb Miss Bascom, and cause consider- 
able apprehension to Mr. Maynard and Winnie. 
The faintest symptom of disease was just then 
of exaggerated importance in Duxberry ; one 
of the principal topics of conversation being the 
contagion at Jean Dullwedge's house, and the 
fear that it might spread through the town. 

Dr. Davidge was promptly called upon, and 
after a minute’s examination of the little girl, 
reassured them all in a way which no one could 
suspect or question, that the trouble was noth- 
ing worse than an ordinary cold. 

“I did think,” Miss Bascom declared vehe- 
mently, ‘‘ that I should never get to sister 
Ellen’s after all. It ’s first one thing and then 
another. I can’t imagine what ’ll come next, 
but I guess if I ’m wise in my generation I 
sha’ n’t stay much longer to find out. Bob 
304 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


305 


hasn’t had his usual appetite lately. It looks 
suspicious. It’s time I started.” 

Miss Angeline is really going this time, you 
think } ” the doctor asked Winnie as soon as 
they were alone. 

Really going, I ’m afraid,” Winnie answered. 
‘‘ And of course it ’s selfish in us to want to 
keep her. The Barkers need her even more 
than we do — so you can guess how much that 
is. I’m so much better myself that I’m --sure 
I can get along. Father has found a little girl 
who can come next week to help me. I think 
I can manage very well.” 

‘‘ I shall be my own judge of that. I shall 
keep my eye on you.” 

^'Oh, I’m too honest to object to that. Dr. 
Davidge,” Winnie responded with a laugh. 

I wish you had another reason for not ob- 
jecting } ” 

Another reason } ” 

That you would like to have me call once 
in a while in a friendly way. Heretofore it has 
been purely professional.” 

You know I would, doctor.” 

‘‘ For my visits have done me more good 
than they have you,” he- continued. 


3o6 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


''That wouldn’t be possible.” 

" They ’ve done more for me than you will 
ever realize. Not that I ’ve grown to believe 
as you do about many things — the most vital 
things in life, as you consider them, but it ’s 
something to know that there’s such faith 
somewhere in the world to comfort somebody. 
How is your cousin getting along nowadays } ” 

" Agnes } Oh — she ’s doing nicely — that 
is, a great deal better than you would expect 
under the circumstances. She ’s restless and 
discontented, but you ’ve no idea how she tries 
to hide it.” 

"That certainly is a credit to her. Dr. Hol- 
brook expresses himself as much pleased with 
the work she is doing in school.” 

" But it ’s very hard for her.” 

" I ’ve no doubt of it.” 

" How soon do you think Sharley will be able 
to take the place again, doctor } Oh, I wonder 
if she has any idea how thankful we shall all be 
to have her with us once more.” 

" There ’s young Godfrey, crossing the road,” 
the doctor said hastily. "Does he call here 
often .? ” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


307 


‘‘He has been pretty often lately — since 
Sharley has been away. I suppose he is lonely 
without her and likes to come among her 
friends.” 

“And particularly likes Miss Haliburton ! ” 

“Yes. He has always admired her very 
much.” 

“ Humph ! ” 

“Jack Godfrey is not one of your favorites, 
Doctor, nor one of the Slocums,” and Winnie 
laughed again. 

“ By no means ; and the Slocums and I would 
have an agreement of opinion for the first time 
in our lives.” 

“I supposed you were going to New York 
long before this, Mr. Godfrey,” was one of the 
first things which Agnes said to her caller when 
she met him in the parlor. “You are always 
putting it off on some excuse or other. Now 
tell me, please, the real reason for your delay.” 

“ You Ve no idea how unwilling I am to leave 
Duxberry, Miss Haliburton.” 

“ Oh, nonsense ! You don’t expect me to 
consider that bit of sarcasm any answer to my 
question, do you.^ ” 


3o8 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


Jack Godfrey did not look as if he were in 
a particularly gay humor that evening. On the 
contrary he was graver than usual and seemed 
preoccupied. 

It ’s the literal truth, Miss Haliburton,” he 
said earnestly, ^‘whatever you choose to con- 
sider it.” 

‘‘And how long has it been true, then } ” she 
asked. “ What is it in Duxberry that you ’ve 
become so suddenly fond of ” 

The young man gave her a most significant 
look, but said nothing. His expression was lost 
upon Agnes, however. Her mind was occupied 
with another subject than Jack Godfrey. 

“ I suppose you would be as glad to get away 
as I shall be — and I could n’t state it any 
more strongly than that ! ” 

A heavy sigh was the only response. Agnes 
found her efforts at conversation a little irk- 
some. 

“ I suppose, of course, you hate to leave 
Sharley, and no doubt you feel all the time 
worried about her.” 

“ Sharley ! Oh, Miss Haliburton ! 

“Well,” Agnes remarked a little later, after 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 309 

vainly waiting for him to continue that subject 
or introduce another. 

‘‘I am — I — that is, I 'm not myself to-night,” 
he stammered, looking infinitely distressed. 
'' I ’m in great perplexity of mind.” 

Agnes tried to look concerned and en- 
couraging; succeeding, unfortunately, only too 
well. 

“Did you ever find it hard to decide what 
your duty was in any particular case, and to do 
it after you had decided } ” 

“Yes.” 

Another long pause. Jack Godfrey vigor- 
ously wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, 
evidently in as great a perplexity as ever. 

“So that is your trouble.^” and there was a 
suggestion of sympathy in Agnes’s voice. 

“ But it is not the only one,” he replied dole- 
fully. 

“ I ’m sorry for that.” 

“ Are you really sorry. Miss Haliburton } ” 

She looked at him in surprise. 

“ Suppose a man finds that he has made a 
great mistake in his life, and can only correct 
it by making somebody else — some innocent 


310 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


person — perfectly miserable. What ought he 
to do then } 

Agnes stood aghast. Such metaphysical prob- 
lems were as far beyond her line of thought as 
she would have imagined them to be beyond 
his. 

‘‘ A year ago, or a little less than a year ago,’’ 
he plunged on, apparently terrified at his own 
words, ‘‘I felt so sure of myself — of my own 
affection, that it was — I — of course I ought to 
have been more sure — to have waited longer, 
but — ” 

He applied his handkerchief again. Agnes 
was fond of Bleak House,” and though she 
could not remember whether or not ‘‘ the young 
man by the name of Guppy ” used his hand- 
kerchief in that particular way, she was comi- 
cally reminded of him just then, and of his last 
interview with Esther Summerson. She used 
hers to cover the laugh which she felt was 
particularly out of place, but which overcame 
her at the droll recollection. The young man 
however was too engrossed with himself to notice 
the movement. 

‘‘For some time,” he resumed at last, “I 


D UXBERR Y DOINGS, 3 1 i 

feared you had as recklessly become engaged to 
Mr. Cosgrove. It was a relief to me — a great 
relief, I beg you to believe, Miss Haliburton — 
to find that I was mistaken.” 

The smile had faded from Agnes's face. 

Who told you that she demanded sharply. 

I asked — er — Bob ! ” 

Agnes felt a fresh inclination to laugh at 
a vision of such an interview. 

‘‘ My first thought was for you,” he resumed 
as she made no comment on his answer. “ He 
is in no way worthy of you. But my next was 
for myself. Oh, Miss Haliburton — Agnes, — 
even before you came to Duxberry I feared I 
had made a mistake in my — my attachment 
to Sharley Kenyon, much as I appreciate her. 
She is a splendid girl — far too good for me, you 
understand. But I never — never felt the same 
to Sharley, long as I have known her, that I have 
felt for you — that I do feel and — ” 

A perfect shout of laughter broke from Agnes 
— an effective interruption of his speech. She 
had in vain attempted to check his utterance at 
his first reference to Sharley, hardly compre- 
hending, even then, the point he was trying to 


312 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


make. But, once started, he became eloquent, 
and it was not until Agnes’s ludicrous under- 
standing of his intention that he was forced to 
stop even to take breath. 

The sound of Agnes’s merriment reached 
Winnie and Dr. Davidge. The former looked 
surprised ; the latter, angry. 

“ Your cousin evidently enjoys that young 
dandy’s society,” the doctor observed, with his 
characteristic scowl. Winnie said nothing. 

I beg you to excuse me, Mr. Godfrey,” 
Agnes gasped, as soon as she could control her 
laughter sufficiently to speak at all. Whatever 
he might have felt for her, as he had termed 
it, he certainly looked just then as if he had 
murder in his heart. 

‘‘ I don’t feel sure that it ’s in good taste,” 
Agnes went on, wiping the tears from her eyes, 
to tell me how you feel about Sharley before 
you ’ve offered her the information. Is that the 
duty you have to do, that’s going to make some- 
body perfectly miserable ? ” 

The fury of her visitor was beyond all speech. 

“ If it is,” she went on, I think you may 
safely take some risk in that direction. Sharley 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


313 


Kenyon made a bigger blunder than you ever 
did, once in her life. If she has n’t long ago 
found it out, I ’m mistaken ! I ’m delighted to 
know that you ’re going to give her a chance 
to — ” 

Miss Haliburton ! ” 

Jack Godfrey had found his voice this time, 
but it served only for that one exclamation. 

‘‘ And it does n’t hurt my feelings a bit to have 
you estimate Sharley so far above me. I know 
she ’s splendid and too good for you, but I 
didn’t suppose you ’d found it out yet.” 

I thought you were a lady,” Jack Godfrey 
growled under his breath. 

The words took Agnes by surprise, and sug- 
gested a sudden thought. Of course, she re- 
flected, this was abominable rudeness, perhaps 
even worse than his treachery and conceit. He 
was not slow to perceive that advantage which 
he had gained. 

I never believed you a heartless flirt,” he 
said severely, ‘‘ though more than one has 
called you so. I am glad you have yourself 
convinced me of it, for it is true.” 

Agnes made a mocking bow. She was 


314 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


appalled at the thought that her very careless- 
ness and indifference to the man might have 
given him some ground for his presumption. 
Yet she had felt so free in all their intercourse, 
knowing that he was engaged to Sharley ! 

I spoke of Miss Kenyon so as to be per- 
fectly honest with you. I think honesty de- 
serves a little better treatment than you give 
it. You don’t quite understand the position, 
either, Miss Haliburton. Nobody can say that 
I was attracted to you because you ’re a rich 
man’s daughter. You can’t say so yourself 
when you know what I know — about — your 
— father ! ” 

About — my — father ! ” Agnes repeated. 
“ What do you mean } ” 

She was sober enough now, as she involun- 
tarily took a step towards him. 

Oh, no doubt you ’ll find out soon enough. 
In spite of your meanness to me I don’t care 
to make you suffer in advance for — ” 

‘‘ Tell me what you mean ! ” Agnes excitedly 
demanded, if you ’re man enough to do it. 
After having said so much — ” 

I ’ll say more, then, and tell you why I have 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


315 


not yet gone to New York. The gentlemen in 
whose office your father secured me a place 
wrote to me over a month ago that they had 
found it necessary to sever all business and 
social relations with him, and must decline to 
receive into their employment any person of 
his recommending. You can draw your own 
inference, I suppose. I did mine.” 

Agnes’s face had grown white, but she tossed 
her head contemptuously. 

‘‘ If that were all,” her visitor added, you 
might dismiss it with a sneer — as you pretend 
— but there ’s no end to the talk about youi 
father’s crooked way of doing business. You 
may not have heard any of it, however.” 

‘‘ Never ! And I refuse to hear another 
word about it from you. Your revenge is a 
noble one, Mr. Godfrey. Perhaps I deserve it, 
but, whether I do or not, you ought to be satis- 
fied. Now go ! ” 

Jack Godfrey was smiling as he picked up 
his hat ; rather a forced expression of counte- 
nance, but it served his purpose very well. 

I was anxious to prove a sincere and disin- 
terested friend to you. Miss Haliburton. Per- 


3i6 


DUX BERRY DOINGS, 


haps you will remember that fact some time in 
the future — if misfortune should come to you. 
Good evening ! ” 

Agnes went straight from the parlor to her 
own rooms. She could not meet her cousin 
that night, though Dr. Davidge had gone, and 
she knew Winnie was waiting for her. She 
was too excited and too angry even for tears. 
In spite of the first comical aspect of the affair, 
she had not been unconscious of the humiliat- 
ing position into which she had been forced by 
Jack Godfrey’s words. Her mortification in- 
creased as she recalled them. 

Laugh at them ! How could she ever have 
laughed at them, even for the sake of discon- 
certing him ! And her father — how dared he 
say such things about her father ! And yet — 
and yet — She shivered, and her breath came 
hard as she recalled some vague facts which 
might serve as confirmation to the words. She 
was surprised to find so many of them. And 
it was three weeks since her father’s last letter. 
A sort of despair settled down upon her as the 
result of her long reverie. 


CHAPTER XXV, 



. Holbrook was reading aloud an item 
in one of the New York dailies, — 


“ The embarrassment of Mr. John Haliburton was the 
main subject of conversation on the ‘ street,’ and the esti- 
mate of the shortage in his accounts, after narrowing 
down all the excessive rumors, fixes the sum at about 
$200,000. At the office of Mr. Haliburton no information 
could be obtained. It was stated on the street that Mr. 
Haliburton’s collapse was not a matter of surprise to 
many, and the way he had been doing business for the 
past six months had made banks cautious in their deal- 
ings with him. The case will soon be brought into court 
in a suit instituted by the merchants who procured an 
order of arrest upon which Mr. Haliburton furnished bail 
yesterday.” 

Land's sakes ! But it 's jist what I allers 
expected ! " 

Dr. Holbrook dropped the paper, and his 
usually serene countenance contracted in a 
frown. His wife, sitting opposite him at the 
breakfast table, looked .equally annoyed. Mrs. 

317 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


318 

Amanda Slocum stood just inside the door with 
a tin pail in her hand. 

I jist ran over to see ef your Mary could let 
me have a pint of cream. We ’re agoin’ to make 
doughnuts, an’ our — two — hundred — thousan’ 
dollars, did you say 1 Ain’t that a lot, though ! 
An’ his daughter afriskin’ roun’ Duxberry all 
summer with her long dresses roun’ her feet, 
and her long feathers atop of her head ! I jist 
wonder how she ’ll feel now ! ” 

There was no mistaking the triumphant tone 
in Mrs. Slocum’s voice. Mrs. Holbrook disap- 
peared after taking the tin pail from her visitor 
and Dr. Holbrook clenched his hand upon the 
table. 

Her father’s failure or disgrace is no fault 
of hers, Mrs. Slocum.” 

‘‘ Oh, of course not. I did n’t mean nothin’ 
like that.” 

‘‘ And it will be hard enough for her to bear 
even under the best conditions. It is not likely 
that this piece of news will become generally 
known in town. I believe I am the only one in 
Duxberry who has the 'Times’ every day.” 

There was a plain meaning in his words, and 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


319 


Mrs. Slocum perceived it with a mental com- 
ment on liberty of individual opinion and 
freedom of personal action, which did not 
reflect in any way upon the liberty of the 
press. She merely nodded her head with a 
little tightening of her lips. 

“ Any one who is Miss Haliburton’s friend,” 
he went on, ‘^or in fact is not one of her ene- 
mies, will have nothing but sympathy for her in 
this misfortune. Even an enemy might pity 
her — if she has one.” 

‘‘She hain’t made many friends in Duxberry 
— that 's a sure thing. I 'm sorry for her of 
course, but not so sorry as I should be ef — ” 

“ Here 's the cream, Amanda,” Mrs. Holbrook 
interrupted in her gentle voice as she extended 
the pail. 

There was a singular inhospitality in the 
words and manner of the doctor and his wife. 
Mrs. Slocum was not too dull to perceive it. 
But it had the effect of making her angry as 
well as hastening her departure. 

Mrs. Holbrook watched her as she went down 
the road. 

“Too bad!” she said softly, almost as if to 
herself. 


320 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


‘‘ It 's a strange Providence which brought 
that woman into the very room where I was 
reading the paper,” the doctor responded, and 
as if he very much doubted there being any 
Providence about it. Of course she will not 
say anything after my unmistakable hint to her, 
but I 'm sorry she knows of it.” 

‘‘ So am I. Poor Agnes Haliburton !” 

‘‘ It is doubtful if she has heard anything 
about this,” the doctor resumed. ‘‘ Her father 
would be the last person to let her know. But 
she has been very much depressed lately and 
seems a good deal discouraged with her work. 
I don’t wonder. The temporary enthusiasm 
died down as soon as the novelty wore off. 
That did n’t take many days. And the work is 
hard, particularly for one who is not used to any 
sort of work.” 

You ’ll see her to-day, husband ? ” 

Oh yes, I ’ll see her. I ’ve managed lately 
to visit the school three or four times a week, 
and I think she likes to have me come.” 

Tho doctor’s ‘‘hint,” broad as it was, could 
not be supposed to apply to Mrs. Slocum’s sister- 
in-law, who in less than five minutes was in- 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


321 


formed of the item of news which had been 
read aloud in the doctor s dining-room. 

‘‘ I guess Angeline Bascom ’ll sing small with 
all the rest of ’em, Amanda,” the elder lady- 
remarked, after the matter had been duly dis- 
cussed for fifteen or twenty minutes ; ‘‘ but 
you won’t ketch her sayin’ a word, nor Nathan 
Maynard, nor Winnie.” 

wonder ef they know about it yet.” 

‘‘Know about it! They’ve known a good 
deal more than they ’ve let on for a good while 
— that ’s my opinion. We thought it was very 
strange, Agnes Haliburton going to Dr. Dav- 
idge’s office that day when he was visitin’ her 
cousin reg’lar ; but I ’ve thought about it sence, 
an’ I hain’t no doubt that she went to borrow 
money of him to help her father. The doctor’s 
got plenty, an’ hain’t got no family nor nothin’. 
Of course Agnes would n’t ask him before her 
cousin. An’ I guess he lent her some too. 
The folks said she did n’t look nigh so chipper 
when she went into the office as she did when 
she come out.” 

It was no wonder that Agnes Haliburton 
liked to have Dr. Holbrook visit the school- 


322 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


house, which was to her at times a literal battle- 
field. The children liked him, too, and during 
his visit he always took upon himself the whole 
responsibility of whatever work chanced to be 
going on, to the immense relief of the young 
teacher. He came in early that morning, and 
somewhat anxious. He knew something of hu- 
man nature and had made a close study of 
Agnes. If a great blow should fall upon her 
he felt sure that she would utterly succumb. 
It was a temporary relief to him to find that so 
far it had not reached her, though the depres- 
sion of which he had spoken to his wife was 
still visible. 

I hope you are not losing faith in yourself. 
Miss Agnes,” the old gentleman said kindly, at 
the close of his visit. myself am much 
gratified with your work. To tell the truth, 
you Ve astonished me all the way through.” 

The slow tears were rising in Agnes’s eyes. 

“What is it, my child.? ” he asked with great 
tenderness. 

“I — I think I ’m homesick, Dr. Holbrook,” 
she answered, trying to smile. “It’s silly, I 
know, but — I — I never wanted to see my father 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


323 


SO much in my life. I expected to leave Dux- 
berry long before this, and it 's almost winter!” 

‘‘Leave Duxberry! Why, how could you 
leave Duxberry just now. Miss Agnes It 
would be running away from manifest destiny, 
and you certainly would not be willing to do 
that.” 

“ I ’m afraid I should be willing, Dr. Hol- 
brook, if I had the chance.” 

But the chance which had been so long in 
coming was farther off than ever. 

Sharley Kenyon was very sick, and conceal- 
ment of the fact seemed as impossible as it 
was useless. That night Dr. Davidge drove 
slowly up to Mr. Kenyon's door, determined to 
inform the family, and thereby do what he con- 
sidered a duty. He had expected to see the 
same anxious looks with which he was always 
received on these daily trips ; but to his sur- 
prise the whole family seemed in a highly jubi- 
lant state of mind. Even his usual message 
was not waited for. 

“We Ve got good news for our Sharley, doc- 
tor,” Mr. Kenyon announced triumphantly. 
“ I ’ve sold all that land, that lot down by the 


324 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


river, to the furniture company; they found 
they did n’t take enough when they made their 
first purchase, ^nd they ’ve paid me a good deal 
more than I Ve been trying to get for it all 
these years. It means independence, almost, 
for us, and Sharley shall go back to school just 
as soon as she chooses. I wonder what she ’ll 
say to that.” 

‘‘Will Jack Godfrey go with her, papa?” 
whispered the youngest member of the family, 
aged three, quite overcome at the prospective 
vision of Sharley’s departure. There was a 
general laugh. Mr. Kenyon shrugged his 
shoulders significantly. 

“ Now, doctor,” and Mrs. Kenyon laid her 
hand appealingly on the doctor’s arm, “you 
must tell Sharley that we ’re getting more and 
more impatient for her every day, and that she 
shall hear some great good news just as soon 
as she comes home. Don’t you give her the 
slightest hint of wtiat it is, though ! ” 

Dr. Davidge shook his head vigorously. 

“ How long do you think we must wait for 
her, doctor ? ” Mrs. Kenyon asked a little more 
earnestly. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


325 


‘‘ I 'll tell you after I Ve delivered your mes- 
sage and seen what effect it has." 

He managed to get away without further 
question, and without exciting the least sus- 
picion. Certainly nothing was to be gained by 
informing them of a trouble they were powerless 
to help. It was cruel to mar their present 
enjoyment. The future held time enough for 
that. It was a duty easily postponed. 

Jack Godfrey was waiting for him in his 
office, evidently with great impatience. 

‘‘ Will you please tell me, doctor," he began at 
once, “ if it is true about Sharley } " 

‘‘ If what is true 1 " 

‘‘What I’ve just heard — that she has been 
taken, too ; that she — " 

Dr. Davidge made an impatient gesture. 

“ You could not trust your informant, then } " 

“ They say the disease is spreading — that 
there are two cases down in Millville." 

“That is true." 

“ And Sharley } " 

“ It is equally true about Miss Kenyon." 

“ Oh, doctor !" 

“ Your solicitude seems to be somewhat new, 


326 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


Mr. Godfrey. IVe seen no particular anxiety 
on your part before.” 

Jack Godfrey scowled at him. “ I don't see 
any need of publishing my anxiety, I — ” 

‘‘ Nor any need, I hope, of publishing this 
last item of news — if there 's any way of keep- 
ing it quiet a little longer.” 

‘‘ Is Sharley very sick ? When was she 
taken.?” 

‘‘ A week ago, and I Ve reason to fear that it 
will prove a bad case.” 

I would like to send some — ” 

It 's too late to send anything, Mr. God- 
frey.” 

But just a message, to — ” 

‘‘Even a message. You've had abundant 
opportunities before now, which you did not 
seem anxious to improve. No message can 
be of any comfort or service now.” 

“ I can't understand your attitude towards 
me. Dr. Davidge,” the young man exclaimed 
hotly. “ Because I had such perfect confidence 
in you — and in Sharley — because I did n't 
waylay you on every corner to ask you about 
her — you seem to think — I've had plenty of 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


327 


chances to ask Lon Morse, and I 've seen him 
nearly every day.’’ 

That must have been a great relief to your 
mind.” 

Jack Godfrey caught up his hat and left the 
office. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


» Agnes was dismissing the school the 
next day her attention was attracted 
to a most belligerent performance by 
Bob Gridley, who, deliberately leaving his seat, 
walked up to the boy nearest to him, and with 
a few muttered words struck him a severe blow 
on the side of his head. Great commotion was 
the result, and Agnes, who all day had been ex- 
asperated to the last verge of endurance, admin- 
istered a loud and excited reprimand to Bob. 
He was ordered, in company with his howling 
victim, to remain after school, and the rest of 
the scholars gradually dispersed, though con- 
sumed by anxiety to understand the signifi- 
cance of the row ’’ and watch its settlement 
by Miss Haliburton. 

The two culprits were in due time arraigned 
before her. 

‘‘ Now, Sam,” she began to the larger of the 
boys, I know that Bob did n't strike you with- 
328 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


329 


out what he thought was good cause. What 
had you done or said "i '' 

‘‘ I did n’t say nothing — to him/’ the boy 
snivelled. 

Whom did you say it to } ” 

I said it to myself. Guess I can say things 
to myself for all him,” he concluded, with a 
defiant glance at Bob. 

He said it to me first,” Bob explained, ‘‘out 
to recess, an’ I told him if he ever said it agin 
I ’d give him a paste side the head — an’ I did.” 

“What did he say.?” Miss Haliburton in- 
quired. 

Bob became suddenly tongue-tied, while he 
balanced himself on one leg. 

“ Why don’t you tell me .? ” 

The young lady’s patience had been nearly 
exhausted before she began the examination, 
and the small stock on hand was rapidly di- 
minishing. She gave Bob’s shoulder a little 
shake. 

“ Can’t you speak .? ” she asked angrily. 

“I — I can’t tell you. Miss Harry Burton,” 
he stammered, changing from one leg to the 
other. 


330 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


Why not ? 

I — I don’t — I don’t wanter.” 

“That’s no reason. I must know, and I 
can’t wait all day.” 

Sam Barney had ceased his snivelling with 
the first sign of hesitation on Bob’s part. He 
was gazing at him with a triumphant leer, 
which increased Miss Haliburton’s perplexity. 

“Now, Bob,” she began again solemnly. 

“ Oh, I can’t ! I can’t tell you. Miss Harry 
Burton,” he protested, snivelling in his turn, as 
he tried to wrench himself away from her. 

“ Was it something too bad to repeat } ” 

“ Yes, oh, yes ’m ! ” was Bob’s lively answer, 
“ that was it — that ’s the reason. It was some- 
thing he heard last night down to Hall’s store. 
He said so.” 

“ What was it about } ” Agnes asked, puz- 
zled as to the best mode of procedure in the 
case. 

Bob hesitated again. 

“ You must tell me that,” she said, with de- 
cision. 

“ ’T was about — your father. Miss Harry 
Burton. That ’s why I didn’t wanter — ” 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


331 


Agnes sprang to her feet. 

‘‘ My father ! Tell me instantly what was 
said about my father.’' 

She clutched Bob by the collar of his jacket. 
The boy was terrified at the action and the 
strange expression of her face. 

He said your father was a thief, and they 
was goin’ to put him in jail — so there.” 

He ended the sentence with a great burst of 
tears. 

Agnes’s hand fell. She stood rigid. Sam 
Barney gradually approached the door — pre- 
paring to run in case of sudden attack. Bob, 
looking around in the greatest distress, saw a 
figure pass the window. 

‘‘ Here ’s Lon Morse a-comin’. Miss Harry 
Burton. He was there, too, and he heard it. I 
did n’t wanter tell you anyhow. I ’ll lick Sam 
Barney for makin’ me if you’ll let me. Miss 
Harry Burton.” 

Sam Barney vanished through the door by 
which Lon Morse entered, and Bob, receiving 
no denial to his proposition, followed hotly in 
pursuit. 

Agnes still stood perfectly motionless, but the 


332 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


rigidity of her figure and the ghastliness of hei 
face were startling. Lon paused just inside 
the door, as if hesitating about approaching 
her. Suddenly he made a rapid stride towards 
her. 

Why, Miss Haliburton, what is the matter ? 
What has happened } Oh, don't look so," and 
he laid his hand lightly on her arm. 

Did you hear — what Bob said } " she asked, 
with stiff lips. 

I } No. What Bob said } " he repeated. 

‘^He told me that you knew it, too, — what 
they are saying about my father — down in 
the village — at the store." 

A smothered ejaculation leaped to Lon's lips, 
and he made a sudden movement. 

It is true, then," Agnes wailed, with a new 
misery in her voice. ‘‘ Oh, Mr. Morse, I did n't 
believe it, I could n't believe it. Oh, it can't be 
true." 

She pressed her hands together, her eyes 
fixed on his face as if her very life depended 
upon some word of reassurance from him. He 
took her hands in both his, holding them firmly 
as he spoke to her. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


333 


‘‘Wait a minute before you give way like 
this/' he entreated. “Let me tell you." For 
a moment he paused ; there was need of some 
preparation before he dared tell her anything. 

“There is a rumor," he began slowly, that 
your father has met with business losses during 
the past few months, which caused his failure 
three days ago, and his arrest by merchants 
who believe him responsible for the disaster ; 
men, of course, whom his failure badly affects. 
But bail was furnished — no doubt he has many 
friends who believe in him yet — and you need 
have no fear of his going to prison." 

“A rumor, you say. What do you mean by 
a rumor } " 

“ It is only rumor, to me. I have no proof of 
it, no more than you have. I heard several men 
talking it over at the store last evening. I 
have told you what they said." 

“ And who said it first } Where did it come 
from } Would they make up such a story about 
— about any man 

“No doubt there is some truth in it, though 
we ‘cannot yet tell how much. Such reports are 
likely to be exaggerated at first." 


334 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


“But somebody must have started it/' Agnes 
persisted. 

The frown on the young man’s face betrayed 
his knowledge. 

“Ah, you know! I see you know, Mr. 
Morse. Tell me. I must go myself and find 
out about it.” 

“You will not go to the Slocums on such an 
errand ! ” 

“ To the Slocums I How did they know } 
Who told them.?” 

“ They heard that it was in a paper, and 
from the little I heard, I judged that Alick Mac- 
Farland was in the room while Dr. Holbrook 
was reading it to his wife. I imagine that Alick 
spoke of it to them ; at any rate, that was the 
impression I got. I can’t state that any one 
said so, definitely.” 

“ And Dr. Holbrook was here yesterday, and 
again to-day, so kind, so — so — . Oh, he must 
have known all the time I Why did n’t he tell 
me ? I must go to him right away. I ’ll ask 
him to show me the paper.” 

She was in a fearful state of excitement. ' A 
sort of frenzy had succeeded to her first stupor. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


335 


Her eyes blazed, her hands were hot, and trem- 
bled even in Lon’s firm grasp. While he 
thought rapidly of what had best be done for 
her, her mood changed again. 

‘‘ Oh, I know it ’s true,” she cried out, a great 
anguish sweeping over her face. ‘‘ Something 
has been all wrong a long, long time. I knew 
there was trouble coming, only I would n’t 
believe it, and he does n’t write to me — it ’s 
weeks since his last letter, and you said some- 
thing about bail, and that means — Oh, what 
shall I do What shall I do ” 

She flung his hands off and sank down into 
her chair, her head upon her desk. Great sobs 
convulsed her from head to foot. Lon stood 
beside her, helpless, horrified. 

‘‘ Oh, Miss Haliburton,” he said at last, find- 
ing the sight of such misery unbearable. He 
laid his hand heavily on her shoulder; on her 
head. 

She seemed not to hear him or to feel his 
touch. 

He took a few turns about the room, irreso- 
lutely ; then stepped outside, pacing up and 
down. It was a long time before he found that 


336 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


she was growing a little quieter, and he waited 
a few minutes longer before he returned to the 
schoolroom and spoke to her. 

If I did not hope that you found some relief 
in such crying,’' he said earnestly, should 
be in despair about you. But you have shed 
tears enough. Miss Haliburton. You '11 be sick. 
I will not have it. You must try and calm 
yourself.” 

There was a certain mastery in his voice 
when he was particularly in earnest, an element 
which every one recognized and generally sub- 
mitted to. Agnes found herself trying hard 
to obey him. 

I am going to Dr. Holbrook’s,” she said at 
last, raising her swollen and discolored face. 
Lon Morse was looking at her most pitifully. 

You must wait a while,” he said gravely. 
‘‘No one must see you so. By and by, when 
you are more yourself, I will go with you. In 
the mean time I shall busy myself outside here. 
The fence needs repairing. It can be done now 
as well as at any other time — as long as the 
tools are at hand.” 

It was an hour, and quite dusk before Lon’s 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


337 


work was finished. Agnes had become very 
quiet — as much from exhaustion as anything 
else — but it never would have occurred to her 
to dictate the time of their departure after 
Lon’s arrangement. She waited patiently, but 
put on her hat as soon as he entered the door. 

‘‘ I can’t come back here to-morrow,” she half- 
whispered, glancing back over her shoulder as 
he locked up the school-house. 

‘‘ It is natural that you should feel so just 
now,” he replied, drawing her hand through his 
arm as they walked away together. “ To-day is 
only to-day. It is n’t to-morrow, and to-morrow 
cannot possibly be like it. You realize that, 
don’t you } ” 

‘‘Yes.” 

“ Of course you are going to do your best to 
rise above this trouble — for your own sake, for 
the sake of your father and of your work. Your 
misery cannot in any way help him, and it can 
hurt a great many persons, — that is, if you 
don’t try to prevent it.” 

“ Oh, it ’s easy to talk about trying ” and the 
words came very impatiently. “ I can’t rise 
above it. I feel as if it had crushed the very 


338 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


life out of me. What will help me ? What 
can I do?'' 

Her voice broke again and Lon felt her 
tremble. The tears were in her eyes also, he 
felt sure. 

^‘Your pride will help you — and your com- 
mon sense.'' 

He uttered the words impressively, and knew 
that he was making the strongest possible 
appeal. When she spoke again her voice was 
quite steady. 

‘‘ You see for yourself how little prid» I have," 
she said with some bitterness. He perfectly 
understood the words though he chose to ignore 
their meaning. That she could break down as 
she had done before him — that her pride had 
not been sufficient to preserve her from that 
exposure — the sentence needed no further in- 
terpretation. 

‘‘ To-morrow, Miss Haliburton, you will go on 
with your work as if nothing had happened. 
You will have a headache very likely, but no one 
need be the wiser for that. You will fight hard 
all day, perhaps for many days, to keep your 
self-control, but you will keep it. In that way 


DUXBERRY D0I7VGS, 


339 


— and I think it is the only way — you will clis 
arm criticism and even malice, if you must 
needs encounter them. And you have no idea,” 
he concluded, how it will help you bear your 
pain.” 

They walked a little way without further 
speech. 

‘‘You were coming to the school-house on 
some errand to-night, Mr. Morse ? ” 

She made the interrogative statement very 
anxiously. 

“Yes — with a message for you from Dr. 
Davidge and — Sharley.” 

“ Oh, what was it?” 

She clutched his sleeve tightly, as she asked 
the question in a terrified voice. 

“ Sharley is worse. Miss Haliburton. The 
doctor wanted you to know. She sent you her 
love — I’m afraid it ’s the last message she will 
send for some time — and hopes that you will 
be willing to keep on with her school — till she 
is able to take it again. ' And I know she had 
no doubt that you would do it.” 

From the window of her sitting-room, Mrs. 
Holbrook saw two figures approaching the 


340 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


house, and an instant later recognized them 
both. She opened the front door just before 
they reached it. 

‘‘ Is the doctor at home 1 Lon asked in 
his strong voice, as .she stood on the doorstep. 

“ Yes, in his study. Go right in. Oh, my 
poor dear child ! ” 

Lon passed on to the farther room, after seeing 
Agnes drawn into the tender, motherly arms, 
her head falling upon Mrs. Holbrook’s breast. 

Half an hour later, the young man left the 
house and walked down the road again, more 
rapidly than before, and straight on to Mr. 
Maynard’s. 

“ Have you seen anything of Agnes V Miss 
Bascom inquired in an anxious tone. It ’s 
pretty late for her. The children were home 
two hours ago and Bob ’s rather the worse for 
wear — says he had a fight with Sam Barney — 
and he looks like it ! ” 

Miss Haliburton has gone down to Dr. 
Holbrook’s, Miss Bascom,” Lon answered. I 
think she ’ll stay there over night — the doctor 
thinks it’s best. She ’s heard — ” 

Oh, just as I supposed — the story about 


DUX BERRY DOINGS, 


341 


her father that 's all over town ! I Ve felt like 
a toad under a harrow ever since it came to my 
ears. I did hope nobody would feel any special 
call to go to her with it, though !” 

‘‘ Oh, Lon, and you Ve seen her ! How is 
she going to get along with it, do you think ? 

Winnie Maynard had just come into the 
room. Her voice trembled as she spoke. 

Better than you would suppose, Winnie ; 
I 'm sure of it. It was very hard for her at 
first. She wanted to see Dr. Holbrook, be- 
cause he probably knows more than any one 
else about it, and I went there with her She 
is in good hands, you know, and she will be in 
school to-morrow.” 

‘‘Father spoke to Di. Holbrook this morning 
about it. He says he has written to New York 
for all the particulars. I think he intended to 
tell Agnes as soon as he found out the truth 
— before she heard of it in any other way.” 

“ Well, there ’s one thing ! ” and Miss Bas- 
com made a wry face. “ She 's been taking 
this dose by the spoonful for the last three 
months. Now she’s gulped the rest of it all 
down at once and got through with it — I hope.” 


342 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


Outside the house, in the growing darkness, 
Lon heard hurrying footsteps, and stopped to 
look around. 

‘^Oh, Lon, Lon,’’ Bob panted, as he overtook 
him. ‘‘I felt just awful about Miss Harry Bur- 
ton. She made me tell her, but I just pelted 
Sam Barney for it, you bet. Ain’t s.he co.min’ 
to school to-morrow.?” 

“ Certainly she’s coming. Why not ? ” 

‘‘ Oh!” 

‘Hs Miss Haliburton fond of you — the rea- 
son you like her so much. Bob .? ” 

^‘No. I guess she never liked me pretty 
much, some way, but I like her — because I like 
her ! ” with which lucid explanation he ran 
back to the house. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 



HNNIE MAYNARD waited anxiously 
the next day for her cousin's return 
from school, and realized how intense 
her anxiety had been when she saw her at last 
coming across the fields. She was at the door 
to meet and welcome her. 

‘‘ It 's been hard work to wait for you, 
Agnes," Winnie said to her, ^'but I was glad 
you did n’t come home this morning. I sup- 
pose you can understand that." 

Did you think I would ? " 

‘‘ I was afraid so. I did n’t know how you 
would feel after such an experience as that of 
yesterday afternoon. Bob told me all about it 
as soon as he came home." 

‘‘ And you knew that Lon Morse was there 
through it all ! Oh, Winnie, think of that ! " 

I did think of it — with the greatest satis- 
faction, too. I should have certainly gone to 
you myself if he had not been there. I know 

343 


344 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


from experience what a help he is in trouble, 
and you know it — now.” 

'^Yes,” Agnes assented, rather unwillingly. 
‘'But it's my misfortune to exhibit myself — 
and my friends — to him in the most unfavor- 
able light. He came to tell you that I was at 
Dr. Holbrook's.?” 

“Yes.” 

“They've been so kind to me, Winnie! 
You've no idea!” 

Winnie was surprised at Agnes. Nothing 
which she had feared as the result of the 
trouble which had befallen her had apparently 
come to pass. She had anticipated the wildest 
and most extravagant grief as consistent with 
the circumstances and her cousin's character. 
Agnes was quiet, almost apathetic. There was 
no trace about her of excitement or distress. 

“ I am so thankful, Agnes,” Winnie said, im- 
pulsively embracing her, “ that you can get 
along so well with such a trial as this. It 's 
the greatest possible relief to see you so — so 
womanly about it.” 

“That's a good word, Winnie. You may 
thank your friend, Lon Morse — I thank him. 


DUX DERRY DOINGS. 


345 


too, more than I can ever tell — for — for what 
he called self-control. Positively, I should be 
ashamed to give way as I did at first, after what 
he said to me — and after what I ’ve seen all 
these months of the way you ’ve borne your 
troubles.” 

I ! Oh, Agnes ! ” 

Winnie made a little deprecatory movement. 
Agnes shook her head. 

Oh, I know. I Ve managed to get a good 
many ideas together since I came to Duxberry. 
It ’s lucky for me that I have something to 
hold on to in this crisis. And then you see,” 
she added, with a great sigh which seemed one 
of positive relief, ‘‘ it is n’t quite so hard as if I 
hadn’t suspected anything all this time. It’s 
something gained to know the worst. Now, 
instead of worrying about what ’s coming I can 
set myself to work to bear what has come. 
Don’t you see } ” 

Winnie did see — and was surprised at what 
she saw. This was far ahead of her best hopes. 

Dr. Plolbrook took me to school this morn- 
ing, and stayed the whole forenoon — took 
charge of the lessons and everything. My 


346 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


head ached so I could hardly see, for I don’t 
believe I slept two hours last night. By noon 
I felt a great deal better, and I Ve managed to 
get through the day somehow.” 

And every succeeding day will be a little 
easier, Agnes.” 

“ Dr. Holbrook has heard from New York, 
Winnie, but nothing very definite. The news- 
paper report was all true, but instead of any trial, 
the affair is to be settled some way — they don’t 
know how, exactly, yet. I know my father is n’t 
— he can’t be — the guilty man they think him. 
He ’s always meant to do right, and if they had 
given him time, he could have fixed things — 
I’m just sure of it. But the disgrace is all the 
same as if he ’d been the worst wretch in the 
city, and — Winnie, do you remember how I 
used to feel about Mrs. Lawton — because her 
husband was a drunkard and had been in jail for 
stealing } And it was a good deal less than 
two hundred thousand dollars ! ” 

She laughed a little, and with great bitter- 
ness. 

Aunt Angeline says it ’s a poor rule that 
won’t work both ways. Yet I don’t believe 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


347 


there ’s anybody in Duxberry who would feel 
sorrier for me than Mrs. Lawton. I feel dis- 
graced — I can’t help it — and it ’s an awful 
feeling, Winnie.” 

‘‘ Oh, Agnes ! ” 

“ There is n’t a bit of use talking about it, 
Winnie. It ’s something that can’t be reasoned 
about.” 

‘‘Yet could anybody with a particle of Jogic 
blame you in the very least And it ’s my 
uncle as well as your father, Agnes.” 

“ Do you think he will write to me — now — 
Winnie .?” 

There was something absolutely appalling to 
Winnie in her cousin’s almost unnatural calm- 
ness. 

“ We must wait and see,” she answered. 
“ At any rate you must write to him, and 
straight off. Only think, Agnes, what he must 
have suffered all this time ! ” 

Perhaps nobody in Duxberry was really sur- 
prised at the climax which had been reached in 
John Haliburton’s affairs. His “ doings,” so 
far as they had been known — which was only 
vaguely — had always excited more -or less 


348 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


wonder and comment. His daughter s visit in 
town had stimulated the memories and quick- 
ened the curiosity of some of the oldest in- 
habitants, and it was not strange that the latest 
news concerning him became a fruitful topic 
of conversation and speculation throughout the 
town. 

Jack Godfrey looked wise, and dropped oracu- 
lar observations as to some previous knowledge 
of Mr. Haliburton’s affairs which had led him 
to expect exactly this result. Only he re- 
marked, ^‘from what I had heard, I judged that 
his defalcations ” — it was an impressive word 
and he made it additionally so in his utterance 
— would reach a higher amount than that 
stated.’' 

The young man had not neglected the oppor- 
tunities afforded by Hope, Dodge, & Hazard 
for placing in their hands whatever capital he 
could command. He was rather chagrined, how- 
ever, by their reply to his first communication 
on the subject. They had stated that the one 
hundred dollars which he had sent them was too 
small a sum for any particularly profitable in- 
vestment. Three hundred would be an amount 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


349 


which would authorize him to expect at least 
four times that sum in return ; while for five 
hundred they could "‘secure a margin” upon 
which they “ could safely calculate a very large 
figure.” 

The one hundred dollars which he had saved 
had seemed a large sum, certainly large enough 
to constitute one of the “ small orders ” which 
they “ solicited.” But the enticing prospect of 
making money rapidly was not one to be sacri- 
ficed on account of lack of means, if it were a 
possible thing to obtain them. How to treble 
his small capital and thereby make it available 
for the generous purposes of Messrs. Hope, 
Dodge, & Hazard, was a problem to the solu- 
tion of which he immediately set his mind. 
More than ever, after his unsatisfactory inter- 
view with Agnes Haliburton, was he determined 
to escape from Duxberry and from drudgery — 
the terms being with him synonymous — if he 
could possibly manage to do so. 

It was not many days before Sharley Ken- 
yon^s illness was known to everybody in town. 
The expression of regret and sympathy was uni- 
versal. Even the venomous tongues of the Slo- 


350 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


cums had nothing but tenderness for Sharley 
and the Kenyon family, and inquiries from all 
sides concerning her condition were incessant, 
until, after several weeks. Dr. Davidge announced 
that she was out of danger. It was not strange 
that considerable curiosity was felt as to the 
condition in which her sickness would leave her. 
Fixy Dullwedge was considered a sight,’' and 
no special adjective was necessary to those who 
had had a glimpse of his disfigured face. It was 
not strange that the first direct question con- 
cerning Sharley’s appearance should have been 
asked by Mrs. Slocum. 

I s’pose. Dr. Davidge, that Sharley Kenyon 
never ’ll look like anything after this ” 

It was the most delicate way in which she 
could frame the interrogation ; but it was in- 
tended as a direct question, and one of Mrs. 
Slocum’s axioms was, that ‘‘silence gives con- 
sent.” She considered herself as effectually 
answered as if the doctor had not preserved a 
grim and scowling silence. 

In less than fifteen minutes Mrs. Slocum was 
in Hall’s store. “ I might as well get that ging- 
ham for them aprons now as any other time,” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


351 


she remarked mentally, while perfectly well 
aware that her most definite intention was to 
see how Jack Godfrey took it.” It was not his 
business to measure the gingham, but she could 
easily find some way of opening conversation 
with him, and she was even more fortunate than 
she had anticipated. Jack happened to be lean- 
ing over the counter to which she first turned 
her attention, talking with one of the clerks. 

“Feelin’ poorly, Jack.^^” she remarked, by 
way of opening the subject. ‘‘Seems to me 
you Ve been lookin’ rather slim lately, and sorter 
pale” 

“ Oh, I ’m all right,” he answered, in an off- 
hand manner, wondering at that instant if it 
could be possible that his countenance showed 
any trace of the financial and social struggles 
through which he was passing. 

“ Everybody feels kinder shaky these days,” 
Mrs. Slocum resumed, “ever since the Dull- 
wedges scared all Duxberry. You must be care- 
ful of yourself. And of course you ’re most 
killed about Sharley. I don’t wonder at that. 
It ’s just awful ! ” 

“ Sharley is getting along all right, Mrs. Slo- 


cum. 


352 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


‘‘ Oh, yes, I s'pose there 's no doubt but she ’ll 
live through it. But ef I was a young girl, like 
Sharley, I ’d most rather die.” 

What in the world are you driving at, Mrs. 
Slocum Jack demanded, a little roughly. 

Oh, then I s’pose you hain’t heard nothing ! 
Sho ! I would n’t have mentioned it ef I ’d ’a’ 
thought of that — not for anything.” 

‘‘Tell me what you’ve heard. I want to 
know, quick ! ” 

“ Why, Dr. Davidge, he says Sharley’s face 
is as bad as Fixy Dullwedge’s — the mercy 
knows it could n’t be any worse — and he says 
she never ’ll look like anything again. It ’s too 
awful bad — such a nice girl as Sharley Kenyon 
is ; but then what could she expect } ” 

Jack Godfrey leaned back heavily against the 
wall. There was no doubt, just then, that he 
looked “sorter pale.” He asked no more ques- 
tions of Mrs. Slocum, and disappeared silently 
while she was examining the ginghams. 

“ I ’m sorry for him, if he is such a little pop- 
injay,” she mused, as, her errands both accom- 
plished, she walked out of the store, “and I ’m 
a good deal sorrier for Sharley Kenyon. Poor 
Sharley ! ” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 



[HARLEY KENYON made a long jour- 
ney before her family or any of her 
friends saw her face again, — a slow and 
distressing one, to the very verge of the grave. 
Her parents would never know how hard a 
battle had been waged with death before he re- 
linquished his intended prey, and Dr. Davidge 
was the only one who realized it. 

Under his instruction, and with her accumu- 
lating experience, Mrs. Dullwedge developed 
into an efficient nurse, while Fixy and his father 
could not do enough to show their gratitude to 
Sharley, and their affection for her. The doc- 
tor had fought the contagion single-handed — 
and had conquered it. The two cases in the 
little village of Millville — a mere handful of 
houses on the outskirts of Duxberry — had 
been slight, and well guarded by the families in 
which they occurred. Dr. Davidge began to 
feel some relief from the enormous strain to 


353 


3S4 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


which for weeks he had been subjected — even 
more a mental than a physical one. 

Sharley's convalescence was slow, and it was 
some time before her parents were allowed to 
visit her. Their proposal to take her home with 
them as soon as she was able to be carried, was, 
to their great surprise, negatived by Sharley 
herself. 

I Ve been talking it over a little with the 
doctor,'' she said to them. I feel as if I 'd 
like to go away from Duxberry for a while, — 
just till I get strong, and feel like myself again, 
you know ; and I propose to make aunt Hannah 
a little visit. Don't you think, mother, that 
it 'll be a good plan } " 

A change is the best thing possible for her," 
remarked the doctor, who entered the room in 
time to hear the last words. “Rydersville is 
not far off, but it '11 do, and a little change is 
better than none. I think it 's a very wise 
arrangement." 

He spoke as if it were definitely made and 
settled, as indeed it was, practically, though 
Mrs. Kenyon cried a good deal over the propo- 
sal. She could not wonder that Sharley shrank 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


355 


from meeting the children and her old friends, 
and cried the harder when she thought of the 
reason. She was disappointed, too, that her 
daughter showed so little joy at the good for- 
tune which had befallen the family. Mr. Ken- 
yon had always been ‘‘land-poor,” but he was a 
rich man now, and able to give his children 
anything they wanted. Shari ey seemed to want 
nothing — but to hide herself away and be quiet. 
She could do both in her aunt Hannah’s house. 

Lon Morse was the only person who saw her 
before she was taken to Rydersville. He had 
asked for the privilege like one who cannot be 
denied, and though, at first, Sharley hesitated, it 
was only for an instant. 

There was a pitiful expression on her face as 
he came into the house, but Lon could not trust 
himself to look at her. She had risen to meet 
him. He drew her head down upon his shoulder, 
and stroked her hair with a hand that trembled 
in spite of its strength. 

“ Why, Lon, I really thought this was going 
to be harder for me than for you,” she said at 
last, when he released her. “Think how selfish 
that was ! ” 


356 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


^‘Oh, you’re very selfish, Sharley — we all 
know that ! ” 

He was looking at her now, and with a 
smile in his eyes. He held her off at arm’s 
length. 

‘‘ Why, Sharley ! ” he cried, in a sort of ecs- 
tasy, it ’s going to be all right in time ! I 
thought — I imagined — I don’t know what I 
imagined, but something infinitely worse than 
this ! ” 

‘‘Yet ‘this’ is pretty dreadful, Lon,” and 
Sharley shook her head. “ Even Dr. Davidge 
doesn’t feel ‘certain sure’ of me yet. He is 
very conscientious in the matter of encourage- 
ment.” 

“But you ’ll be yourself — you’ll be Sharley 
Kenyon to the end of time ! ” he exclaimed rap- 
turously. “ It ’s no particular matter, after all, 
what you look like. What possible difference 
can it make to those — who — love you, Shar- 
ley .? ” 

“Yes, it’s going to be Sharley Kenyon to 
the end of time, as you say, Lon. You don’t 
realize how literally true your words are. I 
vant to tell you something.” 


DUX BERRY DOINGS, 


357 


For years it had been their custom to confide 
in each other, with that brotherly and sisterly 
affection which was so precious to both of them. 
There was no one living to whom Sharley so 
readily went for help and enlightenment in any 
perplexity — and she had one now. 

Don’t think I ’m altogether stupid, Lon, if 
I show you this,” and she drew a letter from 
her pocket. I can’t be mistaken as to what it 
means, of course, but I want you to tell me 
what I had better do about it.” 

Lon’s brow contracted as he recognized the 
handwriting. It was Jack Godfrey’s. 

When did this come } ” he asked, as he 
opened it. 

Last night, and I thought, after I had read 
it, I ’d give anything to have you read it, too. 
All Duxberry might, also, so far as any mean- 
ing it conveys — by itself. It ’s only because I 
know Jack wrote it, and wrote it to me, that it ’s 
at all intelligible.” 

It certainly was a curious composition, — a 
jumble of ‘‘doubt” and “suspense,” interspersed 
with “ high moral principles,” and certain “ mis- 
taken notions of honor,” which might lead to 


358 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


‘‘ worse trouble in the future than could be 
created in the present/’ It deplored ‘^mistakes 
of judgment” and rash decisions.” Complaint 
was made of certain vague business complica- 
tions which darkened the future,” but of the 
charms of ‘‘ confidence and friendship ” which, 
in those of the highest natures,” survived all 
change and disappointment. Jack expressed 
his great sympathy for Sharley’s sickness, and 
his great joy at her recovery, in straightfor- 
ward terms, — the only clear sentences in the 
letter, but concluded by mysterious reference 
to his own distressed and doubtful state of 
mind. 

Lon looked up from the letter in speechless 
amazement. 

‘‘ This has been a long time coming, Lon. I 
saw it and felt it, even before my sickness ; and 
now, if I only knew the wisest way to end the 
whole miserable affair ! ” 

And you can talk it over in this way ! Why, 
Sharley, you don’t seem to care.” 

“You don’t realize how gradually I’ve been 
getting ready for it. It seems sudden to you, 
and yet you must have known something of — ” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


3S9 


She checked herself quickly. - ‘‘ Perhaps that is 
why I don’t seem to care. And there ’s another 
reason.” 

Lon Morse almost held his breath as he lis- 
tened to her, bewildered by his own thoughts. 

“ It ’s been a mistake, Lon, from the very 
first. I ’ve seen it lately, as my father and 
mother saw it a year ago. I tried to shut my 
eyes to it, after I found out, — that was natural, 
I suppose, — and I did n’t see any way out of it, 
either, if it were a mistake. I ’m glad I can see 
the end of it now, some way.” 

“ Shall you answer this letter } ” Lon asked, 
in a slightly restrained voice, which gave a 
touch of stiffness to the tone. 

I want you to tell me what to do.” 

“Then don’t answer it, Sharley.” 

“There ’s really nothing in it to answer,” she 
replied, after a little pause. “ I can thank him 
for his interest and sympathy, but that ’s mock- 
ery ! ” 

“ I should think so ! Let him take the thanks 
for granted.” 

“ Then we ’ll put this letter away and all 
thought of it. I want to ask you about — ” 


36 o 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


But he laid his hand on the sheet as she was 
folding it. 

One more question, Sharley. I never was 
so curious about anything in my life. Don’t you 
feel the least regret, the least pain about this V 
It seemed to Lon a long time before she 
answered, — long enough for him to be sorry 
that he had asked the question. After all, he 
thought, he might have been more considerate, 
or waited awhile. 

There ’s been a great deal of both, Lon,” 
she said at last, slowly, and as if she doubted 
her ability to state the matter as cloarly as she 
wished. ‘‘ No girl can go through such an 
experience as this and not feel it. I honestly 
thought that I loved Jack, and I felt sure that 
he cared just as much for me. It ’s horrid to 
see such faith and such love go all to pieces, and 
find what a fool you ’ve been ; it takes away all 
confidence in yourself. Then there’s the real 
genuine liking that underlies the love, — the 
friendship part of it, — that ’s got to go too, with 
all the rest. And the one who has been the 
nearest to you in all the world must be the 
greatest stranger, — the farthest off, always.” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 361 

Sharley did not talk easily. Lon made a 
movement to stop her. 

No, no,’' she said, ‘‘ I want to explain it to 
you if I possibly can. My pride has suffered 
dreadfully — you can’t have the least idea how 
much — and it has hurt me down deep, in a way 
that I can’t make you understand if I try. And 
I must have a little time to get over it — before 
I can feel all right again, and as I did before.” 

Lon said no more. He felt sure that he did 
understand, perhaps better than Sharley thought, 
and there was a certain new expression in her 
face, aside from its altered appearance, that told 
of new experiences since he had seen her — a 
more earnest, a shade less happier look, than 
had formerly belonged there. But she was 
honest, he knew that, in every word she said. 

‘‘ Tell me now the very best thing about your- 
self,” she demanded, looking up at him with 
smiling eyes. 

‘‘ It ’s about machinery, of course, Sharley.” 

‘‘Well!” 

“The model of the threshing-machine has 
gone to Washington, and I ’ve reason to have 
great hopes of it.” 


362 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


Oh, Lon ! 

“ Do you remember the morning Alick Mc- 
Farland was found down on the Forge road ? 

‘‘The morning you found him, you mean. 
Yes.’’ 

“ I was on my way over to the Hollow when 
I was sent on that errand. I must say, I wished 
Alick McFarland was in the Red Sea — for the 
space of five minutes. I had promised to meet 
a man over there that forenoon — a Colonel Car- 
penter — who looked into the Fair long enough 
to examine some of the models, and was spe- 
cially interested in that one. He was travelling 
through the State on some patent business. I 
promised to meet him and talk it over, but I 
could n’t go ; so I lost the chance of doing any- 
thing that time.” 

Sharley repeated her exclamation, “ Oh, 
Lon ! ” 

“ But three weeks ago he wrote to me — to 
my surprise, for I supposed he’d forgotten all 
about it by this time. And I ’ve sent on the 
model, which he praises extravagantly, and feels 
sure is going to be a great thing, some day.” 

“ And to think how it has all come about ! ” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


363 


This Colonel Carpenter has almost as great 
a craze over inventions as I have, and particu- 
larly farming implements. I suppose that ac- 
counts for it.'' 

‘‘ Bless Colonel Carpenter ! " Sharley exclaimed 
fervently. ‘‘You deserve success, Lon, and so 
you 'll have it." 

“ Oh, what logic ! " and Lon shook his head. 
“I thought better of your reasoning powers, 
Sharley." 

“Now tell me, Lon, all about Winnie and 
Agnes — Miss Haliburton. I sha'n't see them 
for a long time yet." 

“ But has n't the doctor told you } " 

“ Oh, a little, of course ; that is, he 's an- 
swered my questions, and two or three times 
he 's said very complimentary things about 
Agnes. I 'm glad they 're getting better ac- 
quainted. But I want to know more. I heard 
you happened to be at the school-house when 
she found out about her father." 

“ Yes." 

“Wasn't it a dreadful blow to her.? Dr. 
Davidge says she has appeared about as usual 
ever since, but I confess T don’t understand it. 


364 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


I thought Agnes was the sort of girl to be ut- 
terly crushed by such a thing/' 

So did I, and it was very hard for her for 
a while. But it was n’t as sudden to her as a 
great many thought. She ’s been uneasy about 
her father for a long time — gradually getting 
ready for it, Sharley.” 

They both understood that fact. Sharley 
sighed — as she had not done for herself. 

And did you know that Miss Bascom had 
gone at last, Sharley } She really meant it this 
time. She ’s at the Barkers’.” 

‘‘ And Winnie ” 

‘‘Winnie seems just as she used to before the 
accident. You ’ll be surprised at the change in 
her. Day before yesterday I stopped there on 
an errand for your father. Winnie was ironing, 
and her cousin was peeling apples for apple- 
sauce, — think of that ! ” 

“ Agnes ! ” Sharley exclaimed, as if the 
thought were too much for her. 

“ Even Agnes — with a big checked apron 
on at that. In the words of the gentle Casca, 

‘ I could tell you more news, too.’ ” 

“ Go on, then ! ” 



Winnie was ironing, and her cousin was peeling apples. 

Duxeerrt Doings, page 364. 





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DUXBERRY DOINGS, 365 

I don’t think she was in the least disturbed 
by my presence on the scene.” 

That is news ! Agnes must have changed 
more than I supposed. I wonder what she will 
do, now that her father — ” Sharley did not 
finish the sentence. 

She told me yesterday that she had had a 
letter from him. In fact, she read me two or 
three paragraphs. She is anxious to have every- 
body think as well as possible of her father. It 
was a heart-broken sort of letter in one way, 
principally so far as he felt how she was affected 
by his failure. For himself, he feels hopeful 
yet. Some of his friends have undertaken to 
fix up his affairs, and he ’s going to Europe 
again for the present.” 

“ And she will stay on at her uncle’s while he 
is away ? ” 

I suppose so ; I have n’t heard anything 
about that ; only she assured me that she should 
keep the school until you were ready to take it 
again.” 

Sharley gave a start at some sudden thought 
“ Lon ! Oh, Lon ! ” 

What is it ? ” 


366 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


‘‘Something that just occurred to me, but I 
spoke out before I thought it over. I won’t 
say anything more about it till I have. Perhaps 
it ’s a good idea.” 

“ Very likely.” 

“ Come, come, Lon ! ” and Dr. Davidge bus- 
tled into the room. “You two have talked too 
long already. I can’t have Shari ey get so ex- 
cited. She’s not strong enough yet,” — upon 
which dictum the interview was reluctantly 
terminated. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


was almost winter,” Agnes Halibur- 
ton had said to Dr. Holbrook on the 
day preceding the one which had 
brought her great trouble to her. It was quite 
winter now, and the snow lay heaped over the 
face of the earth, or at least that part of it 
around Duxberry. Christmas had come and 
gone, — a very different one from any that Ag- 
nes had ever spent, and the New Year was just 
at hand. It was not coming as a ‘‘ Happy ” one 
to her in any sense. With all her efforts — and 
she certainly persevered in them — she could 
not advance a step beyond the place she had 
* long occupied. She could endure it, that was 
all ; and sometimes she wondered how she 
did even that without making more ado about 
it. She had many long talks with her cousin, 
but Winnie’s experience was not an extensive 
one, and she was often perplexed in attempting 

367 



368 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


to put her own faith and feeling into shape tan- 
gible enough for another's use. She talked 
much with Mrs. Lawton, whom she constantly 
visited in the new and better home prepared 
for the family as soon as Tom entered upon his 
position as foreman in the furniture factory. 
She was fond of her uncle, whose tender, 
though unexpressed, sympathy was of infinite 
comfort to her ; yet he seemed too well satisfied 
with the existing order of things to comprehend 
the rebellion in her heart. She had ventured to 
talk more freely with Lon Morse since his great 
kindness to her, but the only satisfaction which 
she derived from these brief and occasional 
interviews was a consciousness that she was 
doing him justice at last, and was thoroughly 
ashamed of the attitude she had so long held 
towards him. 

But everybody about her seemed satisfied, — 
that was the mysterious part of it all. How 
could they be, with the apparently trivial or tire- 
some routine of duties which filled their hum- 
drum lives } And what was she to do herself — 
what was to become of her } — that was a 
thought equally perplexing. It was vacation 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


369 


now and Sharley would be able to resume her 
school work as soon as the school reopened. 
For a moment a terrible despair settled down 
upon Agnes, out of which a terrible question 
shaped itself, Why had she ever been born into 
the world ? 

She held a letter in her hand during her long 
reverie. She had been in no haste to read it, 
but she opened it now with eagerness, as if 
further thought was unendurable, and as if it 
might furnish her a way of escape from herself. 
It was' from Arthur Cosgrove. 

There could be no question of his disinter- 
ested affection for Agnes. All the love he had 
to give, he gave her, and it was unchanged by 
any change in her circumstances. He had de- 
fended her father from the first — not conscien- 
tiously, but for her sake. Apparently she was 
dearer to him in her adversity than she had 
been in her prosperity. He used every possible 
means to convince her of this — and it had 
greater weight with her than even he had dared 
to hope. 

Winnie Maynard hurried into the room where 
her cousin sat reading. 


370 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


Lon has been here, Agnes, and — oh, I * 
did n’t notice ! ” 

I Ve just finished, Winnie. What is it ? ” 
‘‘He wants to take us both over to Ryders- 
ville to-morrow, to see Sharley. It ’s her pro- 
posal, and, as if she did n’t feel sure that the 
mere invitation would be enough, she sent word 
that she wanted to surprise us both — that she ’d 
got something to tell us ! ” 

“ What can it be ? ” 

“ I ’ve no idea ! Lon laughed as though it 
was something very pleasant. He evidently 
knows all about it. You ’ll go, Agnes ? ” 

“ Of course I ’ll go. I only wish we could 
start to-day. Winnie — ” 

“Well.?” 

“Sit down a minute, can’t you? Anything 
waiting in the kitchen ? ” 

“ Plenty of things, but they can wait a little 
while if you want me.” 

“ I do want you. I want your advice.” 

She pointed to the letter in her lap. 

“It’s from Arthur. You know how kind 
he’s been all this dreadful time. He’s ncv^r 
even waited for me to answer his letters.” 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


371 


‘‘Yes, I know/' 

“ But this one I '11 have to answer, Winnie, 
and — and I don’t know how to do it. You see 
— well, he ’s asked a direct question this time, 
and I know I can’t put him off any longer.” 

“But you don’t love him, Agnes! You’ve 
said so I ” 

The low, earnest tone thrilled Agnes. She 
frowned and moved uneasily. 

“But Winnie, just think ! You know I like 
him ever so much — I always have. And he ’s 
just as loyal to me ! How many fellows do you 
suppose would care even more for a girl placed 
as I am, than for one like the Agnes Halibur- 
ton who came to Duxberry five months ago } 
Yet he does.” 

“ He certainly has stood that test better than 
I supposed he would,” Winnie admitted. 

“ If that has n’t made any difference to him, 
I don’t believe anything ever will,” Agnes went 
on hurriedly. “ And you know Arthur’s father 
is very wealthy. He ’s just taken Arthur into 
the firm, and has settled fifty thousand dollars 
on him — a birthday present. He was twenty- 
five a week ago to-day.” 


372 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


Agnes made a long pause, but asked no ques- 
tion. Winnie knew that there was a good deal 
more that she wanted to say. 

“Now just look at my condition — there's 
no need of rehearsing particulars. I 'm a beg- 
gar, to put the fact in the plainest words. I 
can't do anything. I don't know how. I never 
was taught. Oh, yes," she said, anticipating 
Winnie's impulse to speak, “I know I managed 
to get along with the school eleven weeks, — 
after a fashion, — I didn’t have to admit that 
it was too much for me, but you know it was, 
in a good many ways. And what on earth 
could I have done with it if it had n’t been 
for Dr. Holbrook and Lon Morse ? I should 
never dare to take another one. I can't stay 
on here indefinitely — forever — living on your 
father. What 's to become of me — that 's 
the question — unless — I marry Arthur Cos- 
grove } " 

“ But you will never do that, Agnes, never ! 
How can you ? " 

“Why shouldn't I You know perfectly 
well, Winnie Maynard, that there 's plenty of 
reasons — good reasons — for it, and only one 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


373 


against it. And as far as that goes, I like him 
well enough.” 

Winnie looked horrified. There was no mis- 
taking Agnes’s earnestness. She was appar- 
ently trying to convince herself — and succeed- 
ing. 

Perhaps, Winnie, you ’d have something to 
say about moral principle, and manliness, and a 
good many things that you ’re enthusiastic about. 
But you can’t judge Arthur Cosgrove as you 
would the fellows here in Duxberry. He’s 
lived in a different sort of world — in fashion- 
able society, and, of course, he — that is — he ’s 
not like the young men you know — Lon Morse, 
for instance.” 

‘‘Even if Arthur Cosgrove didn’t drink,” 
Winnie began, very gravely. 

“ Pooh ! What ’s a glass of wine now and 
then, I ’d like to know ? If he was such a 
drunkard as — or if there were any danger of 
his becoming a drunkard, that would be another 
thing.” 

“ Do you suppose any man ever set deliber- 
ately to work to become a drunkard, or ever 
admitted that he was in danger of becoming 


374 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


one V Winnie asked with great emphasis. ‘‘ I 
don’t, and I believe Arthur Cosgrove stands 
in the place where thousands of other men are 
standing to-day — where Tom Lawton stood 
once, years ago. You know how I feel about 
that matter.” 

I think I could afford to risk that much. I 
have great influence over Arthur.” 

Winnie said nothing. The expression of her 
face was most painful. Certainly, judging from 
Agnes’s tone and manner, she did not so much 
desire advice from her cousin as indorsement 
of her decision. So, at least, it appeared to Win- 
nie, and she grew miserable accordingly. 

But the interview proved as unsatisfactory to 
Agnes as it did to Winnie, judging from the 
reverie into which she fell after her cousin re- 
turned to the kitchen. Her eyes were fixed 
with sombre expression upon aunt Melinda May- 
nard’s picture upon the opposite wall. She 
remembered the time — how long ago it seemed 
— when she had first noticed the faded old 
daguerreotype. And aunt Melinda was a young 
girl once, mused Agnes, with a young girl’s 
dreams and hopes and plans. What had be- 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


375 


come of them all as youth merged into middle 
life, and middle life into old age ? Aunt Melinda 
had been the old maid of Duxberry in that re- 
mote period when the term was anything but a 
complimentary one, yet her name had been for 
years a synonym for all sweetness, patience, and 
wisdom. She had left something besides the 
rag-carpet — the last material work of her hands. 
Did it reconcile her to all the labor, and pain, 
and sacrifice of those eighty years } . Did the 
pang of her ‘‘ disappointment,” as it was vaguely, 
but significantly termed, grow less keen as the 
years went by "i If every sorrow in the world 
can be outlived, provided the sufferer has time 
enough, then surely she had had abundant op- 
portunity. Eighty years ! What an appalling 
length of days ! 

Agnes rose at last with a new, a more peace- 
ful expression on her face, and went hurriedly 
to her own room. She was very pale and very 
quiet when Winnie saw her again at the tea- 
table. That evening she went to Winnie with 
another letter in her hand. 

‘‘ Read it,” she said briefly. 

It was a short communication. She had not 


376 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


wasted words, but she had given Arthur Cos- 
grove to understand in the plainest, though 
kindest way, that what he had hoped and waited 
for could never be. 

Winnie threw her arms around her cousin’s 
neck with a smothered, half-laughing, half-crying 
ejaculation. 

‘‘If I can do such a thing as this, Winnie, 
under such circumstances,” Agnes said delib- 
erately, “ you must begin to have some hope for 
me. I begin to have a little for myself.” 

“ Some hope for you ! ” Winnie repeated, “ I 
should think so.” 

“Yet you, Winnie Maynard, can have no 
more idea of what this means to me — ” 

She did not try to finish the sentence. 

“ I forgot to tell you one thing Arthur wrote. 
Bell Duncan is home again at her mother s. 
Only think, and she has n’t been married three 
months yet.” 

“ Why, what is the trouble } ” 

“I don’t know. I never shall know — from 
him — after this letter! ” 


CHAPTER XXX. 



i T was a disagreeable surprise to Dr. Dav- 
idge to find that a little plan of his had 
been anticipated, — that Lon Morse was 
intending to take the two girls to visit Sharley 
Kenyon. He had tried for over a week to find 
a leisure day on which he could take Winnie to 
Rydersville, and the first opportunity which 
presented itself brought with it a disappoint- 
ment. 

‘‘ But why can't you go, too, doctor } " Lon 
asked him. ‘Wou can take Winnie, as I know 
you prefer to have her, and I think Miss Hali- 
burton will not object to ride with me. It will 
be an improvement on the original plan." 

It was accepted as such, and the arrangements 
made according to Lon's suggestion, no one ap- 
pearing disturbed by the change. 

Winnie was much surprised at the first ques- 
tion the doctor asked her — almost the first 
thing he said. 


377 


378 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


‘‘ Does your cousin hear anything, nowadays, 
about her old friend. Miss Bell Duncan, who 
married and went abroad to live ? ” 

She heard only yesterday that she had gone 
back to her mother’s house. She does n’t know 
any of the circumstances.” 

Humph ! Then it ’s true ! ” 

Winnie looked up in surprise, quite as much 
at his tone as at the words, and waited for some 
explanation. 

‘^You see I knew something of the family 
some years ago, and I felt a little curiosity about 
this youngest daughter. Did she pretend to 
have any affection for the man she married, do 
you know } ” 

Why, I know it was considered a very bril- 
liant match. That was what it was called ; and 
he had a great deal of money. I always took 
for granted that she cared for him, as she ought 
to care. I never heard Agnes say.” 

Oh, your notion is old-fashioned. You don’t 
keep pace with the times. Miss Winnie ! Affec- 
tion — truth — fidelity — those are never to be 
considered. They ’re obsolete ! ” 

Winnie always winced at that special tone in 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


379 


Dr. Davidge’s voice. She drew back into her 
corner of the carriage. 

‘‘ I may never have a better chance to tell you 
the story I once promised you/' he went on, 
after a long interval, and in a very different 
manner. ‘‘Would you like to hear it now.?" 

“ Certainly, doctor, if you care to tell it." 

“ It 's not a pleasant one, in any respect. I 
want you to know that, to begin with. Years 
ago, when I was a young man, — when I be- 
lieved in all good things, as you do now, — I 
married a beautiful woman whom I loved — well, 
as men do love women sometimes, with a sort 
of insane idolatry, which ignores all reason or 
common sense. And I was insanely happy, 
too, for a time. Poor fool ! When my child, — 
you never knew that I had a daughter, I sup- 
pose, — when she was less than a year old, my 
wife, her mother, — think of what these words 
really mean ! — deserted us both, — ran away 
from her home, you understand, and with a 
man, — a man whom she loved, or thought she 
did, as she never had me. That was Bell Dun- 
can's oldest sister." 

“Oh!" 


380 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


Winnie struck her hands together. 

You Ve never before heard anything of this, 
I imagine } 

Agnes spoke once of some very disgraceful 
affair that happened in the Duncan family long 
ago. She never knew herself exactly what it 
was. Bell Duncan was a little girl at that time, 
and the family always felt anxious to hush it up. 
That is all I ever heard.” 

‘‘Yes, they felt it very keenly at the time. I 
had the pleasure of learning afterwards that 
the woman whom I married accepted me ‘to 
spite her mother,' — the exact expression. The 
man she cared for was not rich enough to satisfy 
Mrs. Duncan, and she broke off the marriage. 
I was equally objectionable to her, but I was 
accepted by the daughter for the reason I have 
just mentioned, after she had been told that her 
first lover was dead. Rather an interesting 
family history, is it not } ” 

Winnie was perfectly quiet. 

“ What was left to me, do you think, of 
faith in God, or man, or human nature.? We 
talk and think of death as the greatest evil 
under the sun ; yet what is death compared to 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 381 

the miserable life left in a man after such an 
experience ? I should have killed myself, had it 
not have been for my little girl/’ 

''And she — ” 

" You shall see her some time. She is in good 
hands. She will be brought up differently from 
what her mother was, thank God. Bell Duncan 
looks startlingly like her sister. I knew the 
picture the instant I saw it the other day.” 

" How strange all this would sound to Ag- 
nes,” Winnie said thoughtfully, after they had 
been riding a long time in silence. 

"To think that she, too, should look up to 
Mrs. Duncan as an oracle, as her ' guide, coun- 
sellor, and friend.’ Ah! Agnes Haliburton is 
like hundreds of other girls — just what training 
and influence make them ; and there ’s more 
than one Mrs. Duncan in the world — more’s 
the pity for the world 1 ” 

" She will never know it now, probably. 
Death has come at last to help hush up the affair 
which the family tried so hard to keep secret,” 
he resumed, after another long interval of 
silence. " Some weeks ago — the very day 
that Mr. Arthur Cosgrove arrived in town, I 


382 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


remember, — I found some one waiting for me 
in my orifice, when I returned there after my drive 
with you. It was the lady who has charge of 
my little girl — a very dear cousin. And she 
had come to tell me that my little girl's mother 
had been dead for months. The news had just 
reached her, and by pure accident. I had never 
heard of it myself." 

“Do you think," Winnie asked, “that the 
Duncans know that you — about your being set- 
tled here in Duxberry, and do they care any- 
thing about the child " 

“They care! My child is not an heiress, 
Miss Winnie. I am not a rich man. Why 
should they care } And there has been no word 
between us for many years. It is hardly likely 
that your cousin would mention me to them. 
Perhaps Mrs. Duncan has forgotten my exist- 
ence. I know that she would be very glad to." 

In the buggy which followed the doctor’s, an 
equally animated conversation was carried on — 
but of a vastly different nature. Agnes skil- 
fully drew Lon Morse into a long talk about 
himself — a matter which needed all the skill 
she could bring to bear upon it. But she w’as 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


383 


an interested and appreciative listener — so 
much so, in fact, that he was quite annoyed on 
their arrival at Rydersville to realize how per- 
sistently she had kept him to that one theme. 

The meeting between the three girls after 
their long separation was one to be always re- 
membered. They talked as only girls can talk, 
under such circumstances, while Dr. Davidge 
and Lon Morse smiled understandingly at each 
other as the murmur of animated voices and 
quick, hearty laughter reached them from the 
adjoining room. The two gentlemen sat pa- 
tiently with Mrs. Hannah Kenyon till such time 
as the young ladies should choose to rejoin 
them. 

“ And you only look as if you were blushing 
a little, Sharley,'' Agnes said, gazing scrutiniz- 
ingly at her. ‘‘ I think, on the whole, it ’s rather 
becoming. But even that color will wear off 
before a great while, I suppose 

I suppose so — and I ’m perfectly willing to 
sacrifice the becomingness with it. Now for 
the surprise ! Have you guessed it } ’’ 

‘‘We haven't even tried to." 

“Well, then, next week I ’m going to Con well 


384 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


College ; to enter, if I can pass my examina- 
tions ! ” 

‘‘And you thought that would be a pleasant 
surprise ? '' Agnes asked reproachfully. 

“Aren’t you glad I ’m to have such a chance 
— one I’ve wanted and needed so long.?” Shar- 
ley asked in the same tone. 

“Yes — I suppose so — that is, I know I 
ought to be.” 

“ I ’m sure I am,” Winnie said emphatically. 
“ I had to stop and think about it for a minute, 
though. Oh, Sharley, what shall we do without 
you.?” 

“ I hope the other part of the surprise 'will be 
pleasanter, girls. Of course you’ve guessed 
that — now .? ” 

They shook their heads. 

“ Agnes is to be offered a permanent position 
in the school here — and at a larger salary than 
they ever paid me. Besides, there ’s to be 
another school-house built before long. There ’s 
need of a larger one since the factories were 
built.” 

Agnes’s eyes opened more widely. She did 
not say a word. 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


38s 


“Dr. Holbrook has arranged it all. You can 
have it if you choose to take it, Agnes. He 
says you ’ve done surprisingly good work there, 
and that the children are a good deal more fond 
of you than you ever seemed to believe. I do 
hope you ’ll go.” 

“ Go ! Of course I ’ll go, Sharley, and be 
only too thankful. I can’t truly say that it ’s 
a bed of roses to me — not exactly — but I sup- 
pose I can get used to it after a while. I must 
do something, and I ’d rather do that than any- 
thing else. In fact, it ’s the only thing I can 
do.” 

“Yon ’ll find Fixy Dullwedge a most valua- 
ble assistant, Agnes. He ’s going back after 
the holidays, and you ’ll admit that he ’s expe- 
rienced a most decided change of heart.” 

“Is it possible that trouble has done that 
work for him } ” Agnes asked in a singular tone 
of voice. 

“ I don’t know what else can have the credit 
of it, I’m sure. I don’t take any — not the 
least.” 

“And how does Jack feel about this new 
move of yours, Sharley } ” 


386 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


It was Winnie who asked the question, and 
in the most innocent way possible. She had 
had no opportunity to see how matters had been 
going with Mr. Godfrey, and had heard perhaps 
less than any person in Duxberry of the com- 
ments made upon his infatuation for her cousin. 

Agnes gave Sharley a quick, curious look. 
She had longed for an answer to that same 
question which she herself could not ask. 

Sharley hesitated a moment, then spoke with 
her old frankness. 

Of course you will both be very much sur- 
prised, but I would rather tell you than have it 
reach you in some outside way. There is no 
longer any engagement between us. It was a 
mistake — we both think so — from the first. 
Fortunately we found it out before it was too 
late." 

And you Te satisfied to have it so ; you ’re 
glad, Sharley Kenyon, I know you are ! ’’ and 
Agnes gave her a tremendous embrace. ‘'Now 
do tell me, for I ’ve always been dying to know, 
how in the world you ever promised to marry 
him. He ’s no more fit for you than — than — ’’ 
Agnes gave her head an expressive shake in 
despair of finding a suitable simile. 


DUXBERR Y DOINGS. 


387 


‘‘I think I began to care for Jack Godfrey/’ 
Sharley said, slowly, ‘‘when I found that he 
cared for me. He really did, then, two years 
ago. At any rate, he believed he did, and he 
made me believe it, too. I think that was the 
whole secret, and I guess it ’s not an uncommon 
experience with girls.” 

“ Oh, I know it is n’t,” Agnes asserted viva- 
ciously. “You see, to begin with, there’s an 
immense fascination in the idea that somebody 
is desperately in love with you. Then it ’s easy 
enough to imagine that you ’re in love with 
them — with him, I mean. That ’s fascinating, 
too. And, anyway, it’s just horrid to have to 
break a man’s heart — at any rate, that’s what 
they always call it — when he cares for you 
more than anything else in the world.” 

“And yet the flimsiness of it all ! ” Sharley 
exclaimed, — “I mean, making the most im- 
portant decision of one’s life on such unsub- 
stantial grounds, and being in such a hurry 
about it ! ” 

“ ‘All women love love.’ That ’s what Holmes 
says,” Winnie remarked. 

“ And it ’s all right they should ; it ’s natural. 


388 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


and I could n’t believe in a woman who did n’t, 
if she only knew the real from the counterfeit, 
and knew what to do with it.” Sharley’s voice 
was very earnest. The three persons in the 
next room had heard no peals of laughter for 
several minutes. 

‘‘ I wonder you feel so easy about going away, 
Sharley,” Agnes remarked. ‘‘You told me, I 
remember, when I first came here, that of 
course I ’d find you here, for, if you were alive, 
you’d certainly be living in Duxberry.” 

“And did you suppose that meant that I 
preferred to live in Duxberry } Oh, you child ! 
Did it never occur to you that folks had to 
do things sometimes whether they wanted to 
or not, and that if they were wise they’d try 
to make the best of the situation } ” 

“ No, I confess it never did in those days.” 

“ And now } ” 

“ Oh, now I know it ; I’m fully convinced 
of it.” 

The distance from Rydersville to Duxberry 
made a necessary limit to the call. But it 
seemed a great trial to Agnes to say good- 
by to Sharley. Probably it was equally so 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 389 

to Winnie, though she was less demonstra- 
tive. 

I 'm so glad, Sharley, about Jack Godfrey,” 
Agnes said vehemently, as she left her. Now I 
do hope there ’ll be some chance for Lon Morse. 
He’s just splendid. I’ve found that out, and 
he ’s good enough for a queen ! ” 

Sharley gazed at her in amazement as she 
turned away. 

'' Is it possible,” she whispered to Winnie, 
‘Hhat she thinks — that she doesn’t know — ” 
Why, Sharley ! ” Winnie gasped, ‘‘ you 
don’t mean — Why, I never thought of such 
a thing before ! ” 

It was to be hoped that the conversation was 
intelligible to the two girls, for nothing more 
definite was said on either side. 

Sharley had a chance for a few words with 
Lon Morse before the party drove away. 

‘‘Jack has settled it, Lon. I ’ve had another 
letter from him. As I did n’t answer the first 
one, he takes for granted that I chose to termi- 
nate an engagement which he has not been too 
stupid to see has been growing irksome to me 
for some time. Those were his exact words ! 


390 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


And he assumes to be very angry and indignant 
because I did not send for him to come and see 
me when I was getting well ! ” 

‘‘ You 're not going to write to him ? " 

‘‘There's no need. I understand him per- 
fectly ; and, what is better yet, he knows it ! " 

Winnie and Agnes had a long talk that 
night at the close of their exciting but most 
enjoyable day. 

“ And we 've had more of a surprise than we 
counted on," Winnie said, referring to the rev- 
elation concerning Jack Godfrey. She herself 
had had some slight suspicion, ever since the 
change in the fortunes of the Kenyon family, 
that Sharley would be anxious to go away to 
school again. 

“ Are n't you thankful Sharley's engagement 
is broken off," Agnes asked, in atone which left 
no doubt of her own sentiments. 

“Very thankful! There's not one of her 
friends who won't feel so, too." 

But what Agnes most wondered at, as she lay 
awake that night, was the contentment, the 
relief, she felt at the prospect of remaining in 
Duxberry. It was a singular sensation. “ AT 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 39 1 

ter all,” she mused, I suppose it 's nothing 
more than reaction after the misery of wonder- 
ing so long what in the world was going to be- 
come of me ! ” 


. CHAPTER XXXI. 

jklipHE winter gradually wore away into a 
tardy spring, and during its progress 
there were few ‘‘doings’' in Duxberry 
of any special importance. Miss Bascom had 
alternated between her sister’s house and that 
of her rheumatic, but appreciative, brother-in- 
law, Deacon Hotchkiss, with occasional after- 
noon calls at the Maynard farm-house, to see for 
herself that Winnie did not break down again 
under the load which was certainly a heavy one 
for such slender shoulders. The young girl 
upon whom she had depended for help had 
failed to come, for some inexplicable reason. 

“ But you see, aunt Angeline, Agnes offered 
to take some of the housework herself. Certain 
things I save for her, as she insists upon it, and 
you ’ve no idea how much she can do ! ” 

Miss Bascom was silent from sheer amaze- 
ment. 

“ Of course we all know that Agnes is not 
392 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


393 


particularly happy. I don’t suppose it ’s to be 
wondered at, really. And it seems to me that 
she never likes to stop to think about anything. 
The busier she keeps the more contented she 
seems to feel.” 

‘‘That’s natural. I s’pose John Haliburton 
writes her occasionally some of his gilt-edged 
letters } ” 

“Yes, and only think! Uncle John seems 
just as hopeful as he ever did. Is n’t it strange } 
I don’t think Agnes hopes for much, though, 
from that direction. Dr. Holbrook has been 
good enough and wise enough to explain some 
things to her, — something about uncle John’s 
way of managing.” 

“ Humph ! I should n’t wonder if Agnes had 
more common sense than her feather-headed 
father, if one only had patience to dig down far 
enough to find it ! ” 

Lon Morse made two trips to Washington 
during the winter, returning more enthusiastic 
than ever over the schemes with which he occu- 
pied himself. 

“You see,” he said to Winnie, “it isn’t so 
much the money one can make in that way. I 


394 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


honestly believe I ’d be just as interested in 
this sort of work if I knew it would keep me a 
poor man to the end of my days. What I want 
is to buy a farm of my own not far from New 
York or some large city, so I can divide my 
time between the two places — have all the 
facilities of libraries and lectures, you know, 
with a chance to try experiments all the 
time, — a sort of gentleman farmer, I would 
say, if I did n’t despise the term so much ; as if 
all farmers could n’t be gentlemen ! ” 

It was hoped that Sharley Kenyon would 
spend her spring vacation at home, but she 
devoted it to study instead, reserving her first 
visit till summer. A warm welcome awaited 
her from everybody in Duxberry. 

‘‘But Jack Godfrey, he’s lookin’ kinder 
streaked these days,” Mrs. Slocum remarked. 
“ I guess there ’s no doubt he broke off with 
Sharley after what I told him, and jest to think 
that Dr. Davidge was mistaken, after all ! ” 

Sharley spent one of her first days with Win- 
nie and Agnes. The district school had closed 
for the season. 

“Jt happens to be just one year ago to-day 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


395 


since I came into ‘ Duxberry doings/ ’’ Agnes 
said, half-laughing, and it 's been longer than all 
the rest of my life put together ! And Winnie ’s 
got something just perfectly splendid to tell 
you, Sharley ! It ’s a great secret yet, from 
everybody but her father and me. Now, Win- 
nie ! Oh, you said you would tell Sharley the 
very first chance you got, and this is it/' 

‘‘I think you would like to tell her, Agnes.” 

‘‘Well, then, Winnie has been engaged to 
Dr. Davidge just three days ! And he made an 
awful fuss about her being so much younger 
than he is — as if she could help that ! and 
being so much better in every way — as if she 
could help that, either ! And, oh, Sharley, he 's 
got the dearest little daughter, about eleven 
years old — and it's the strangest thing! She 
looks ever so much like Bell Duncan, only she 'll 
be a great deal handsomer. And all the doctor 
desires in life, — anyway, that 's what he told 
me, — is, now that he 's got Winnie, to have his 
little girl grow up to be just such a woman as 
Winnie is. Did you ever see such a deluded 
man ! '' 

Sharley was as much pleased at the intelli- 


396 DUXBERRY DOINGS, 

gence as Agnes could have wished. As for 
Winnie — if there is such a thing as perfect 
happiness in this imperfect world, it certainly 
looked out of her serene and lovely eyes. 

Jack Godfrey was one of Shari ey’s first call- 
ers, to her intense and disagreeable surprise. It 
needed only a few words from the voluble 
young man to prove the object of his visit — a 
desire, as he termed it, ^^to ignore the past,’' and 
an equally strong desire that Sharley should 
forgive and forget the rash action into which he 
had been led by her mysterious and aggravat- 
ing silence.” But a few minutes were suffi- 
cient to convince him of the uselessness of the 
appeal. 

‘‘ Then I suppose you hate me, Sharley. I 
don’t wonder.” 

“Hate you! Oh, Jack, you know what a 
foolish thing that is to say.” 

“ Then you ’ve grown utterly indifferent ! ” 

“ Perhaps so. I ’ve certainly tried to.” 

“ Do you care enough for me, Sharley, to 
save me from prison, if you could } Oh, that ’s 
exactly what I mean! You’ve no idea of the 
fix I ’m in. Curse John Haliburton and the 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


397 


schemes of all such men ! I Ve sent hundreds 
of dollars to that New York firm that swindles 
people into believing that they can make a for- 
tune for them by turning money over in their 
hands ; and I Ve lost every cent of it ! ” 

^‘Hundreds of dollars, Jack? But where — '' 
^‘Ah, that's just it ! I Ve managed to borrow 
it from old Hall, you see, without his knowing 
it — a little at a time — and I ’m sure he 's be- 
ginning to suspect me — I'm sure of it ! And 
if he examines the books it 's all up with me ! " 
Sharley looked horrified, — as indeed she felt. 
‘‘ If your father would let me have the money 
— if he would lend it to me, I — " 

Sharley made a quick gesture. 

‘‘ I 'll ask him for it," she said curtly. I 'm 
not utterly indifferent to you. I don't want to 
see you ruined. Jack. If this experience will 
only save you — " 

But she wondered, as he went away, if it really 
would, or if the mania of ‘‘making haste to be 
rich" had as strong and fatal a hold upon him 
as upon so many thousands of others. Jack 
Godfrey had proved himself weaker, in many 
ways, than she had ever suspected. And how 


398 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


successfully she had once deceived herself about 
him ! 

Agnes’s school opened in the fall, a week be- 
fore Sharley returned to college. Lon Morse 
called one afternoon at the school-house, appa- 
rently without any particular reason. He looked 
graver than usual, and Agnes was sure that she 
divined the cause. 

I ’m as blue as you are about Sharley’s 
going away again ! ” she said impulsively. 
‘‘ Duxberry is never the same without her.” 

‘‘But I shall not miss her as you will. Miss 
Haliburton.” It had not yet become “Lon” 
and “ Agnes ” between them. He kept rigidly 
to the old formality, and as she found “ Mr. 
Morse” too stiff a name for much of their con- 
versation, she gave him none whatever. 

“ What did you say ? ” she asked blankly, as 
she heard his words. 

“ I shall not miss Sharley, because I shall not 
be in Duxberry myself. I am going away — 
with her, when she goes — and most likely I 
shall not come back again.” 

“ Why — I — you — ” 

What an expression there was on Agnes’s face 


DUX BERRY DOINGS, 


399 


as those stammering words were on her tongue ! 
A duller man than Lon Morse would have 
comprehended it, and Lon understood per- 
fectly. 

‘‘And I was afraid, all this time, that you 
would not care, Agnes ! ” 

It was several minutes before either of them 
spoke again. Agnes was the first to break a 
silence more satisfactory than any words. 

“ I did n’t know myself that I cared — quite 
so much. Truly, I did n’t ! ” 

“And was it very mean and dishonorable 
and — and heartless in me to throw you off your 
guard in that way.^” Lon asked, with a smile, 
as if conscious that she had seen through his 
little stratagem. 

“Yes, I think it was ; in fact, I ’m perfectly 
sure that it was.” 

“But think for a moment what justification I 
had ! Have you ever given me the faintest — 
Why, what could I do, Agnes } There was no 
other way for me, — any way that I could see, I 
mean.” 

“ But I thought it was Sharley you cared 
for, all the time, Lon ! ” 


400 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


‘^And Sharley knew all the time that it 
was n’t, — not in this way, I mean.” 

They both laughed. 

But Lon had told the exact truth in regard to 
his leaving Duxberry, though the decision had 
been suddenly made. He was going to Wash- 
ington for a while, to work under Col. Carpen- 
ter s direction, and if his hopes were realized, 
there was to be a little farm on Long Island, 
and a little house which he should plan and 
build himself, and — it had grown quite dark in 
the old school-house before either of them 
realized how late it was. 

Agnes told Winnie the whole story as soon 
as they could get alone that evening. 

And to think I really believed it was Shar- 
ley he cared for, Winnie ! You thought so, too. 
You said so once. Don’t you remember.?” 

Ah, but I ’ve known better ever since — 
since that day at Rydersville ! ” Winnie ex- 
claimed triumphantly. Sharley told me how 
it was.” And Winnie really believed she had ! 
‘‘What did Lon say to that, I ’d like to know ! ” 

“ Oh, he called me a goose, or a dunce, or 
something equally complimentary, — I’ve for- 


DUXBERRY DOINGS. 


401 


gotten just what. Think of Leonidas Morse 
talking to me in that style — once!” and she 
clenched her hand with a most menacing ges- 
ture. ‘‘There's one great favor I 'm going to 
ask uncle Nathan, Winnie, and that is, to let 
Bob Gridley go and live with me when we — I 
— that is, when I go to Long Island, — if I ever 
do!” 

It was not too late for Sharley to hear the 
same story which had been told to Winnie, be- 
fore she returned to college. 

“We’re going to keep it a profound secret 
from everybody in Duxberry for a while ; and 
we ’ll do better than Winnie and the doctor 
did. That affair was all over town in less than 
a week.” 

Sharley’s shout of laughter was in amazing 
contrast to Agnes’s earnestness. 

“ It ’ll be over town in less than twenty-four 
hours, Agnes ! You won’t do as well as Winnie 
did. What do you think Amanda Slocum told 
me the first thing this morning ” 

“ Amanda Slocum ! ” 

“ That she saw Lon Morse kiss you when he 
left you at Mr. Maynard’s last night ! That 


402 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


argus-eyed woman ! She ’d been to town for 
tenpenny nails, or something, I forget what. 
She declares there ’s never been such doings in 
Diixberry ! '' 

‘‘Yes, they are rather new!*' and Agnes 
laughed quite as heartily. “I hope you told 
her, then, that — *’ 

“ I told her ! No, indeed I Imagine her sur- 
prise when she finds out that I did n’t tell her ! 
She’s not particularly logical — does not go 
readily from cause to effect.” 

“ And, Sharley, there ’s one thing more I 
want before I can be perfectly happy — just 
perfectly, you understand.” 

“Of course, Agnes. Your father is — ” 

“ No, no I He ’s safe enough.” 

For a moment she had actually forgotten his 
debts and disgrace. “ It ’s about you.” 

“ About me } ” Sharley repeated, wonderingly. 

“ If you were only as happy as Winnie and I 
are, Sharley! If you — ” 

“ Oh, Agnes, I ’m as happy and contented as 
you are, in my way. My heart’s desire is to be 
gratified fully, if I live and have my health. 
Can’t you understand that } ” 


DUX BERRY DOINGS. 


403 


“Yes — but — if there should never be any 
other way ? '' 

“ If I should never marry, do you mean ? 
Why, I can look forward to such a probability 
— and I’m sure it’s very probable — without 
the least regret.” 

“That’s just what Mrs. Duncan always said 
education and independence were sure to do for 
women ! ” Agnes cried, in a distressed tone. 
“ I ’m sure I should be perfectly miserable if I 
thought I ’d got to teach all the days of my 
life; and as for Winnie, I don’t believe even 
Winnie Maynard could be eternally contented 
with only her father and the children and the 
kitchen ! ” 

“ No, it ’s not natural that she should, or 
you either. You’ll be as truly in your niche 
as wives and mothers, as I shall be in mine, 
as a teacher. But I feel as if my work were 
different from yours — that it is my work, you 
understand, the thing I can do best. I never 
could develop into a good cook or housekeeper. 
Winnie is a natural one, and you’re growing 
fast ! ” 

“But now, Sharley, what I want to know 


404 


DUXBERRY DOINGS, 


know! You needn't be afraid for me, 
Agnes. I appreciate a good man's love too 
much to throw it^ aside if it was right for 
me to take it — if I loved him just as much 
I mean. But you ought to rejoice, Agnes, 
over every woman who can be put by education 
beyond the need of marriage for show, or sup- 
port, or any such reason. Mrs. Duncan's no- 
tions are wrong, Agnes. It is just such doc- 
trines as hers which cause such miserable 
marriages in the world, and better, a thousand 
times better, everlasting single-blessedness than 
even one more such 1 " 

Everybody in Duxberry laughed, though no- 
body was surprised, when Miss Bascom, six 
months later, suddenly married Deacon Hotch- 
kiss. The reasons she freely stated herself to 
all who cared to hear them. 

‘‘You see, the doctor's determined to take 
Winnie to his own house, — he 's selfish, like all 
the rest of the men, — and she hasn't made 
an angel of him quite yet. Now, Elnathan 
Maynard 's a dreadful helpless man in some 
ways, just as bad as the deacon. I can't have 
three families on my hands, so I 'm just going 


DUXBERRY DQ/NGS. 


405 


to marry the deacon and take him over to 
Elnathan’s, where I expect to live the rest 
of my days, and that'll make things easier for 
me ! " 

Winnie and Dr. Davidge were riding together 
in one of the first warm days of May, in the 
spring which followed Agnes Haliburton’s 
second winter in Duxberry. In a week they 
were to be married, very quietly, in her father's 
house. 

Do you remember once quoting a poem to 
me, beginning, — 

‘ In the bitter waves of woe. 

Beaten and tossed about,’ ? ” 

the doctor asked her. 

‘‘ Oh, yes ! " 

And promising me the last verse, some time ? 
I Ve never dared to ask for it, for fear I should 
ask too soon. But certainly, I 've waited long 
enough, Winnie. Say the whole of it, my 
darling. I never heard it before, as I shall 
now." 

And Winnie repeated it, with a voice that 
broke and trembled upon some of the lines and 


406 duxberry doings . 

the memories they recalled, lingering tenderly 
over the last two stanzas. 

“ And fierce though the fiends may fight, 

And long though the angels hide, 

I know that Truth and Right 
Have the Universe on their side. 

And that somewhere beyond the stars 
Is a Love that is better than Fate. 

When the night unlocks her bars 
I shall find it — and I can wait.’’ 


C. J. Peters & Son, 145 High Street, Boston. 


The Last O’The Luscombs. 

BY HELEN PEARSON BARNARD. 

Just Published. Postpaid, $1.25. 

SHOULD BE IN EVERY SUNDAY-SCHOOL LIBRARY. 


WHAT IS SAID OF IT. 

A sensible and powerful temperance story, the scene and people of 
which are characteristic of New Kngland. It moves spiritedly, has many 
truly L 
and the ; 
hook, 

sympathetic reader. — Congregationalist. 

Very interesting and dramatic story. — Christian Union, 



A wholesome and interesting story of New England life, into which are 
wrought some experiences of seafaring folk. — Boston Journal. 

A vigorously told story, with an eminently wholesome moral. Its in- 
terest is fully sustained to the last with passages of no little pathos and 
power. — Zion's Herald. 

A book to suit the boys “ first-rate.” Such books, if put in the way of 
the dime-novel-reading boy, would drive out the trash, and supplant it 
with something elevating and inspiring. — Sprmgjield Union. 


No manuscript of a story has passed through my hands, which, in its 
sustained interest, vigorous expression, and moral purpose, has made a 
deeper impression on me than this. As a temperance story especially, it 
is true to life, chaste in its descriptions, and most persuasive in the indi- 
rect appeals of its leading characters. — Kev. A. E. Dunniis^g, S. S. Sec- 
retary. 

A book of decided merit, Avith lessons for young and old that ought to 
do them good. New and fresh, written with vigor, sustaining the read- 
er’s interest from beginning to end. — New York Observer. 


Although not distinctly a temperance book, it ought to rank high 
among temperance books, inasmuch as it is perfectly sound on the tem- 
perance question, and is free from the unnaturalness and sensationalism, 
if not positive vulgarity, Av^ith which many temperance stories abound. 
Thk Last o’ the Luscombs is a religious story of more than ordinary 
power, Avith pleasant pictures of life on the sea and by the sea.— Sunday- 
School Times. 

Bright and entertaining in its narrative, and highly instructive in its 
moral. The evils of intemperance are pointed out with a master hand. — 
Malden City Press. 

A book of a good healthy tone ; the moral is not obtrusive, but cannot 
help making itself felt. — Transcript. 

Well written ; admirably adapted for Sunday-schools and home. We 
especially com mend it for its temperance teachings. One young girl en- 
thusiastically declares, “It is the very best temperance story I ever 
read ! ” — Temperance Cause. 

Deeply interesting ; plot Avell carried out ; the tone healthful. I wish 
every boy and girl in America could read it. It will be an inspiration to 
good, a Avarning against evil. — Rev. O. P. Giffobd, Boston. 

It is a strong, Avell Avritten, very interesting and useful story, and de- 
serves to be widely read by the young. — Rev. S. I. Prime, D. D., New 
York. 


THE BOY LOLLARD 


BY FREDERICK A. REED. 

AUTHOR OF “TWIN HEROES.” 

Postpaid $1.50. 


“This book will help the young to realize what their ancestors were 
willing to go through to obtain the Bible in the English tongue .” — Golden 
Rule. 

“ It is no exaggeration to say that for learning, sound sense, genuine 
entertainment, and true spiritual earnestness, it is not likely to be 
equalled by any book of its kind in a long time. It is emphatically a 
volume for the household and the Sabbath-school library .” — Congregon 
tionalist. 

“ Few writers, for young people at least, have touched upon this phase 
of the Reformation, and Mr. Reed’s intelligent treatment of the subject 
will greatly aid his readers in understanding the course of the Protestant 
movement in England.” — New York Observer, 

“ Like the author’s previous book, ‘ The Twin Heroes,’ this is a relig- 
ious historical romance of the best type, dealing with one of the most 
interesting periods of the history of English Protestantism with entire 
historic verity, and yet in a manner Avliich makes the story as pictur- 
esque and vivid as a work of fiction. It is a story of thrilling times, of 
persecutions and martyrdoms, and readers, young or old, will obtain 
from it a realizing sense of the price which has been paid for religious 
liberty.” — Boston Joumal. 

“The outlines of the story are true to the actual history of these 
inartyr-days, and real personages come often upon the stage. The story 
itself is well wrought out and naturally told.” — Zion’s Herald. 

“ It describes vividly the effects upon English society of introducing 
the translations of the Bible in the early years of Henry VII. and Cardi- 
nal Wolsey. Mr. Reed, the author, died in June, 1883, after this work 
went to press. He will be greatly missed, for he was doing a good work 
in acquainting the young with the vital facts of English church history.” 
— Neiv England Journal of Education. 

“ Unlike many of the books prepared for Sabbath-school scholars, it 
furnishes a large amount of valuable information.” — Westminster 
Teacher. 

“ Twice the author visited the localities of the thrilling events in Eng- 
lish history which he portrayed, for the sake of verifying his descrip- 
tions. ‘The Boy-Lollard’ will have special interest at this time, when 
the four hundredth anniversary of Luther’s birth has caused so much to 
be written and said about the great Protestant Reformation on the Ger- 
man side.” — S. S. World. 

“The scene is laid in the reign of Henry VIII., and the story of the 
Boy-Lollard is interwoven everywhere with the public events which 
marked the progress of the Reformation in England.” — Sunday-school 
Times. 


CONGREGATIONAL SUNDAY-SCHOOL AND PUBLISHING 

SOCIETY. 





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